


False Positive

by pretense



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Ending, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, M/M, Mpreg, Rape/Non-con Elements, for the shiroba-beast!jaku interaction, the return of Beastjaku i guess, will add warnings as we progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:10:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretense/pseuds/pretense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are broken, faded, unrecognizable from the persons they used to be. But that’s okay. As long as they’re together, they can be whole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kittypox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittypox/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Caged](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2330282) by [kittypox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittypox/pseuds/kittypox). 



> As stated in the tags, this is a ~~wacky~~ alternate ending for kittypox's amazing-beyond-words fanfic, [Caged](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2330282).
> 
> Thanks for letting me into your crazy-wonderful world and for letting play around with this~  
>  ~~I just hope I'm not in way over my head! we've got 2 to 3 more chapters and the art, I'll put them up I promise!~~
> 
> Happy holidays everyone!

Noiz floats in a murky darkness, consciousness slowly, sluggishly creeping in. His brows meet in a furrow, crinkling the skin between them, dry lips forced apart. He attempts to move his head, his appendages, but his body remains still, weighed down by an invisible barrier. Noiz isn’t exactly suffocating but he’s not going to wait until he does. It takes some time but opening his eyes is worth the herculean effort. A huge breath of relief fills his lungs. Noiz finds himself in a massive room, timeless and familiar, emerald draperies gushing down from the canopy like a fabric waterfall. He wonders what they’re still doing up there when he very clearly remembers tearing them off and scaling the side of the house with --- the house. _This house_.

_What is he doing back here?_

There’s a heavy blanket over his body and a stiff mattress underneath it. Noiz holds his tongue while his eyes dart about, instinct dictating that he get as much information about the situation before making his move.

Here are the facts:

It’s early morning; he can see the door from his vantage point and the breakfast tray that usually materializes by eight isn’t there.

He can’t move his body and it’s looking like sleep paralysis. He tries wiggling a toe, a thumb, but nothing’s working yet. He keeps trying.

The bed is as large as he remembers it, swamping his no-longer-small body with its unyielding build and deceptively soft covers. His eyes explore the planes of fabric until they come across an unusual bulk.

And it’s moving, rising and falling in subtle rhythms almost as if…

It’s breathing.

Dread pools at the bottom of Noiz’ stomach, shouts of ‘Danger, Danger’ echo in his head. He needs to leave. Needs to leave right now. His joints protest his attempts at mobility, staying locked in place but Noiz keeps trying until finally he manages to crane his neck just so to see...

Koujaku.

Dark hair cascades down his shoulders with just the lightest ombre tint of red at the tips. He looks to be in deep slumber, eyes closed, bouts of air circulating past parted lips.

Noiz feels that black hole in his stomach squeeze his lungs and suck in even the beating heart between them. The urgency to move grows stronger as he is consumed with the need to touch and verify this impossibility before him. Koujaku at peace, in his old bedroom on a sunny German morning. Noiz wants to be near him, he knows everything will be all right if he could just touch --

 

A sharp impact slaps his hand down and the four walls of his childhood room crumbles, revealing yet another prison.

 

It’s bright and cold, invasive and biting through his skin. The voice that echoes is cheerful and chilling.

“Oh, you’re awake! Good!”

Except he feels the exact opposite of good.

Noiz hears beeping machines and busybodies, but his head is swimming, making it impossible to focus on more than one thing.

Porcelain fingers snap in front of his eyes, the face behind them looking devilishly pleased. “I was hoping that you’d survive for once and you didn’t disappoint! Well done!”

Despite the praises, Noiz just knows that Aoba is being condescending. This bleached out ghost of someone who might’ve been his friend one time… it hurts to look at him. Everything hurts.

There are thick red burns over his skin where he had struggled against the restraints. They’re gone now but Noiz’ limbs remain lethargic, anesthetic coursing through his veins and turning his insides cold.

 _What did you do to me?_ Noiz wants to ask but only manages a stuttering grunt of the first word, body feeling too weak, too vulnerable like it always does after Aoba experiments on him.

Aoba grins triumphantly. “You tried to escape,” he says, vehemence bright in his eyes. “Tried to take my Koujaku away. I should’ve killed you.”

And he could have, Noiz knows with a gut-wrenching certainty. He remembers the escape plan, how it had failed so spectacularly, the ringing alarms, Koujaku going into that fearsome rage. Then he blacked out, only to wake up in this immaculate nightmare.

“But I couldn’t just do that, oh no.” Aoba almost looks crestfallen at the lost opportunity but the manic grin on him gives away his true feelings. “Koujaku has grown attached to you,” he sneers. “He tore down those guards,leaving nothing standing in his way to freedom but do you know what he did? He went back for you. _God_ , he couldn’t just leave _you_.”

For all of Aoba’s derisive words, the only thing that stuck with Noiz is that Koujaku hadn’t escaped. He had hoped that at least one of them would be free from this hell despite his botched plan. He realizes how naively, pathetically optimistic he’d been to think that. Now he’s just another lab rat, Koujaku is presumably chained down again somewhere, and all his fragile dreams have been smote into dust.

Is this where Aoba is going to end him then? Was he woken just to have the madman revel in his final moments?

Noiz would have wanted to see Koujaku one last time. Kiss him, say _I’m sorry_.

“Oi!” Aoba grabs Noiz by his bangs, forcing the drooping eyelids wide open. He ignores the pained grunt, leaning closer to Noiz’ scowling face. “That little stunt showed me exactly how crucial you are in keeping my Koujaku… satisfied.” It’s Aoba’s turn to grimace, deliberately avoiding the right word, quickly smoothing his expression as he continues. “And if Koujaku’s… complacent... he’ll stay. He’s the type to settle down, don’t you agree?”

Aoba’s eyes skim down his body and Noiz strains to follow.

There’s a long gash over his stomach, stitched up with thin black thread.

* * *

 

Two weeks of isolation follows and Noiz barely holds it together.

First he tried picking at the wound, natural curiosity egging him to uncover what it is that Aoba had taken from him. A spleen? A kidney? Something that would weaken him enough to be unable to attempt another escape. He itches to find out and as he regains his strength, the temptation is almost too much to resist. But there is another mystery at hand.

Noiz’ recovery period is spent in an isolated ward. It’s sterile like the operation room and he drives himself crazy wondering what it could mean. Why is he being treated specially? His suspicions only grow when masked attendants in all white come in every so often. Their hands are cold, spread over his stomach and seemingly checking the sutures, scanning for results, but Noiz doesn’t kid himself into thinking that they’re looking out for his well-being.

Their voice have a power that’s eerily familiar, leaving Noiz unable to move or complain as they go about their intrusive business. Once, he hears them chuckling darkly, mentioning how his body has been “very accepting.” Noiz can only stare in horror at the pierrot masks, mute to demand the explanation he seeks.

One of them cocks his head at him, casting a sinister shadow on the comedic facade. “You’ll find out soon,” he promises. They feed him some lunch (a proper meal instead of the gruel he’d been accustomed to) and then leave him in his pristine prison.

Noiz could go after them, pound his fists at the door until he breaks more bones but he remains where he is, staring at the white ceiling. His mind turning over the new bit of information… it’s not that Aoba has taken something out - much like how he’d treated Noiz’ mouth before - but something has been put _inside_ of him.

His fingers drag over the bedsheets as his hands curl into fists, arms stiff at his sides.

Whatever it is, his body has apparently taken to it, and that scares Noiz more than anything.

\-------

Aoba drops by at the end of the arduous fortnight, wearing a smile that promised nothing good. “Alpha reports that you’ve been a very good patient,” he starts, traipsing over to Noiz’ bedside as one of the masked attendants follow, holding up a metal tray.

Noiz remembers the array of invasive instruments glinting under the surgical light systems.Terror snakes up his spine at the thought of how deep the scalpels will cut this time.

Seeing that reaction makes Aoba’s grin grow wide, he pets the top of Noiz’ head, condescending. “So well-behaved, too,” he croons, just to dig the thorn deeper into Noiz’ side. “I think I’ll give you a prize.”

A pale hand reaches for the metal tray and Noiz tries not to recoil, to show any more weakness in front of this villain but the sight of the glass syringe with a needle that’s longer than his middle finger makes him dry swallow something awful. Aoba turns to him, unfluttered and determined to bring more misery into his life.

“Stop this!”

Aoba’s gleeful expression falters at the outburst.

“I am not your plaything!” Noiz’ chest heaves, panic dilating his pupils. “So just kill me and get it over with!”

Aoba shares a look with his white-clad attendant, this one masked with tragedy. Colorless lips split apart,  landscape torn through by an earthquake, jagged and merciless like the laughter that pours from him. As quickly as it comes, the mirth disappears from Aoba’s expression, replaced with  a more familiar look of disgust. “You think I’m keeping you alive for _my_ benefit?” he scoffs. “That’s almost cute. But death is a lot more than you deserve for everything that you’ve taken from me!”

Noiz flinches as Aoba’s words escalate into a shout. He had lost the will to go on after the failed escape attempt and the hours of solitude were enough to squash his most feeble hope of ever reuniting with Koujaku again. Just thinking of him now makes Noiz hurt all over, certain of the unbearable torture the man must have endured for aiding Noiz in his ill-planned breakout.

“Now _lie still_ , you ungrateful wench,” Aoba grits out, stiff scowl mellowing into poison honey sweetness as he raises the syringe once more. “Someone has been _dying_ to see you again and I don’t want to disappoint them.”

The masked assistant peels back Noiz’ hospital gown, revealing a stark nakedness that Aoba doesn’t even blink at. He sticks out a finger, tracing the ridges over Noiz’ stomach, noting the added plumpness that two weeks of proper food had brought -- battered skin finally lifted from bones.

“That better be arsenic,” Noiz mutters.

Aoba hums, disinfecting the patch of skin just under the sutures that have melted into skin. “I’ll keep that in mind for when you’ve ceased to be useful,” Aoba tells him, then he pushes the needle in, pumping the entire load of clear liquid into Noiz’ body.

 

Noiz expects to feel woozy after the shot but he is well aware of everything that follows. The artificial air blows coldly against his barely-clad form as the door whooshes open, polished tile flooring add another layer of chill in his bones as he pads barefoot through the blinding corridor. The party of three passes by a neat row of doors, all of which appear to be locked. They turn down the corner and he finds a surveillance camera on one of the pillars, tracking their movements without a sound.

“Don’t even think of it,” comes a cheerful warning from the masked figure on his left. “You’ve kept him waiting long enough…”

The cryptic message didn’t even get the chance to be analyzed before Aoba announces that they’ve reached their destination. He stands before a wide glass wall, inside it is what looks to be a one-room apartment sans kitchen facilities. It reminds Noiz of the underground prison he’d been kept in, if it had proper lighting and was designed to mimic some sort of nesting ground.

“What is this? A playpen?” Noiz frowns, scrutinizing.

“Something like that,” Aoba loftily responds. “Ah, but where…” He taps a pointed finger on the glass in lieu of knocking and something stirs from the pile of sheets in the corner. Grinning at the reaction, Aoba repeats the motion, coaxing the creature out of its hideaway.

A rumbling groan resounds from the room as limbs tear away the covers, revealing a ragged mess of red. The golden pupils are narrowed in the midst of bloody scleras, dark hair tinting crimson down the untamed length, his tan skin marred with lotus blooms and thick swirling patterns.

No, not a creature, Noiz realizes with a start. Before he knows what he’s doing, Noiz is pressed against the glass, shouting “Koujaku! Koujaku!”

The narrowed gaze shifts over to the blond and Koujaku’s fierce expression falters. He gets to his feet, charging towards them and nearly crashing into it in his haste. Sharp nails, chipped in places, scratch at the glass. When they prove futile, Koujaku bodily slams against the partition.

“NNnnnnnhhgg!”

“Let me in!” Noiz turns to Aoba, ready to beg should the man ask him to but Aoba is already moving, headed to where the glass wall ends.

Koujaku follows them on the other side, hackles raised at hearing the definite click of the room’s only door being unlocked. It usually promised another discomfiting session with the bleached out, twisted persona of the one who used to be his dearest friend. But now he’s looking forward to someone else, the suspense of who it might be that enters his den keeps him from charging.

Aoba pushes the door ajar, glancing at Noiz with a patronizing grin. “It’s good that you haven’t learned your lesson the first time. Now get in.” He looks thoughtful, as if about to add more but he simply steps back.

Noiz wonders how he looked right then, willingly stepping into another prison, but what else is there to say? Even if he was given the chance to leave, he wouldn’t do it without Koujaku. Noiz would much rather be cooped up with him than alone. So he holds his head high and steps inside.

* * *

 

Koujaku’s eyes are on him, intense as he remembers them but there’s a tinge of suspicion, too. Noiz does his best to make no sudden movements, palms held open in front of him as a cautionary measure should Koujaku pounce. He watches the muscles flex over the half-naked form as Koujaku approaches; his ripped kimono appears to have been untouched even though the rest of him looks relatively cleaned up. Koujaku takes a loud whiff and a guttural sound crawls past his lips, kicking Noiz’ anxiety up a notch.

He backs away only to meet with the solid door. No more locks or even a doorknob he could pick, Noiz notes, it’s opened by some sort of access card judging by the horizontal slat at his elbow’s level. Before he could think more on that, the heat and weight of another body presses into him. Noiz gasps, helpless and unable to push away the mass that’s near-crushing him.

Koujaku buries his nose into blond tufts of hair, hands latching on to shaking shoulders. When he growls, hot air blows right against Noiz’ ear, causing an involuntary shiver that he snaps at. Sharp nails dig through the thin material of the hospital gown. He presses closer, bared teeth scraping over skin as he inhales lungfuls of Noiz’ scent.

“Koujaku… it’s me,” Noiz tries pushing him away but the beast growls threateningly. Not wanting to aggravate him any more than he already appears to be, Noiz pulls his hands away, leaving Koujaku more room to finish his assessment. They had been in a similar situation before -- Noiz coming back smelling Other and Koujaku getting hostile at the notion of something else touching his mate -- so Noiz deems it best to let Koujaku have at it. At least the man still recognizes him, Noiz has had a lurking fear of Aoba rewiring Koujaku’s mind in his absence. The older man’s taunts being a ploy to get Noiz walking straight into his demise and it would’ve worked too, had Koujaku reverted into a mindless beast. But he hadn’t. Noiz’ current predicament proves that higher order thinking had stuck with Koujaku and that mere fact is already worth this imprisonment.

A salivating tongue licks a stripe down Noiz’ neck, pointed nose nudging the gown’s collar aside in a bid for more contact, each ragged exhale blows over wet skin. Koujaku’s body is hot (partly from sleep, partly from his growing aggravation) and he molds it against Noiz’, maybe trying to rub his own scent back on the blond.

Koujaku’s leg slots between his thighs and Noiz barely reins in his gasp; a surge of panic fires, making him tense. He’s not ready for that, not so soon, not when he doesn’t even know what Aoba has done with this body.

Koujaku nips at the underside of Noiz’ jaw, somewhat sensing the stiff posture. He pulls back, looking concerned. “ _Nnnhh._ ”

The lilt in Koujaku’s growl almost sounds like a question. Noiz stares into gold-red eyes, unable to look anywhere else, really, with Koujaku’s face hovering so close. “I… I’m okay,” he says, a little awkward. Noiz slowly brings his hands to Koujaku’s face, wary of any reaction, but he manages to cup the chiseled cheeks, he feels them vibrate with the responding purr.

Koujaku leans in, nuzzling his nose against Noiz’, his warmth enveloping the younger man.

Tension eases off Noiz’ shoulders and he slumps freely against the door. His knees fold, sinking Noiz into a sitting position with Koujaku crowding his lap, foreheads still pressed together. “I’m so sorry,” Noiz whispers against the hot puffs of air that Koujaku breathes over him. He wipes the drool off Koujaku’s lips, clean hand thumbing over high cheekbones before carding into the red mess of hair. “I made you worry. I got you hurt.”

A hiccup stalls Noiz from his next statement and he pauses, confused. Before he knows it, his shoulders are trembling and tears are running down his face. Noiz curls into a fetal position, drawing Koujaku closer as empty sobs tear from his throat.

Koujaku’s hands are no longer chained, Noiz finds out when defined arms loop around his waist, holding him securely as Koujaku licks his cheek. The handsome face contorts into a grimace at the salty taste and Noiz manages a weak smile. Koujaku lays his warm weight on him, offering comfort in the best way he knew: making quiet shushing noises and enunciating his indelible presence.

Noiz doesn’t know how long they lay there in a tangled heap of limbs. Koujaku had eased off breathing on his face and now laid on his chest, an ear pressed over his heart. He feels safe like this, content. The silence of the room speaks loudly of their imprisonment but Noiz couldn’t care less about it.

He is home.


	2. Chapter 2

Koujaku has already picked his favorite spot, it seems. The cot along the wall has been stripped of its sheets and pillows, the beddings repurposed to make a nest on the floor. If Noiz wanted to sleep in a proper bed, he would have to wrest a blanket from Koujaku at the very least.

There are no windows here either but it has better ventilation than the dungeons. The toilet is nowhere near as gross and there’s even a sink, too. He wonders what these upscaled accommodations could mean. Surely, it ties with whatever new ploy Aoba has come up with. The guy made his exit not long after Noiz had entered his new cage, tapping at their window to let the pair know of his departure but that gleam in his eyes only told of how he wouldn’t be away for long.

With the lights in the hallway turned off, their isolation is almost tangible, popping goosebumps all over his skin. Koujaku growls, nosing into Noiz’ armpit and the blond half-heartedly pushes him away. It’s been hours (probably) and still Koujaku isn’t done reacquainting with his person. He even dragged Noiz away from the door and made him lie in the middle of his heap of blankets which is, admittedly, teeming with Koujaku’s scent.

Noiz runs his fingers through Koujaku’s hair, receiving a pleased purr. Red tresses give way to his exploring touch, much softer and grease-free than he remembered. “Looks like they’ve taken good care of you,” he murmurs, twirling a long lock around his finger and bringing it to his nose to smell. He can’t quite pinpoint its scent -- Koujaku had always been the one with a penchant for sweet smells and their romantic associations -- but Noiz certainly appreciates it all the same.

Gold eyes observe him, then a clawed hand reaches for his cheek. Koujaku brushes off the odd-looking ‘hair mustache’ Noiz has made for himself, clearing a path for him to come closer. Noiz’ expression slips into alertness as Koujaku leans in, the hand on his cheek keeping him still... not like Noiz is going to dissuade him, anyway.

A warm, wet tongue licks at the seam of his lips, softening the chapped skin before initiating a proper kiss. Noiz hums, opening up and growing lax as their mouths find their perfect fit. The heady musk of the older man blankets him, physical weight a comfort rather than a hindrance. That same daring tongue slips past Noiz’ lips, eliciting a moan that spurs him to continue. Koujaku explores the same old landscapes, bold yet pliant to Noiz’ breathless encouragement. He licks between the gaps, teases the exposed gum and twining with Noiz’ tongue, pulling back only when he detects the other’s need for air.

Still, Noiz keeps him close even as they part. Brief pecks occupy the space between each breath. “Guess we’re back to normal, then,” he smiles wryly, cocking his head to one side. Receiving a purr in response, Noiz initiates their second kiss.

* * *

Everything goes well for the first couple of days, cuddling and kissing and feeling thankful for their togetherness. The room is neither hot nor cold, the whiteness of its walls and ceiling is easy enough to get used to, its silence comforting in that they can clearly hear each and every breath from the other. There’s no more warden who sneers from beyond the jail bars, their food comes timely and palatable, and even when Aoba shows up, he merely observes them through the glass window. It’s tedious but it’s safe.

Then Noiz wakes up one morning with Koujaku’s face in his crotch.

Noiz yelps, nearly slapping Koujaku with his thighs in his haste to close them, evident erection be damned. There’s precum smeared over the healing scars on his stomach, saliva coating his length from Koujaku’s attention, and a tight knot low in his belly from arousal that he simply cannot wish away. Pulling at the hospital gown to cover himself, Noiz’ frown is matched with a similarly dissatisfied look from his mate.

“ _ Don’t do that! _ ” Noiz sits up, scooting backwards in an effort to put some space between them but Koujaku only crawls closer. The intense look in his eyes and the slick mess around his mouth does the complete opposite of what Noiz wants to achieve, cock twitching between his legs.

Koujaku doesn’t heed him, closing in on the blond until Noiz is backed against the cot with nowhere else to go. He makes a show of sniffing the air around Noiz, shoulders shaking at the heavy smell of arousal.

Noiz’ eyes slip shut as Koujaku invades his personal space, pressing in, bringing heat and the taste of his own precome when he kisses him. The mouth on him is warm, tender and coaxing. Koujaku’s musk mixes with the cocktail of hormones already swirling in his veins. 

“Koujaku…” His feeble words fall on deaf ears as clawed hands force his knees apart, traitorous dick standing to attention. Those same hands grab his hips, pulling him down, legs splaying farther apart to accommodate Koujaku in between them. “Koujaku,” Noiz tries again, determinedly looking the man eye to eye. “Stop.”

He gets a grunt in response, accompanied with a clench that brings sharp fingernails digging into his skin. By chance, Koujaku’s thumb catches on the curve of Noiz’ healing stitches. Noiz flinches, curling into himself, but Koujaku snarls at him, seeing this action as resistance. Claws bury themselves deeper as Koujaku hovers on top of the blond.

Mouth dropping in a cry of pain, Noiz looks down at his prone form, invariably finding the bulge on Koujaku’s clothed crotch threateningly close to his bare ass. Then there’s the agitated scars crisscrossing under his stomach. Reaching a decision, Noiz grabs Koujaku’s wrists and pulls them away. When Koujaku voices his protest in increasingly loud grunts, Noiz matches it with a fierce glare and a steely voice. “Let  _ go _ . You’re  _ hurting _ me.”

The high-pitched tone makes Koujaku pause, likely comparing it to other sexual sounds the blond had produced before, but the blissful expression he expects isn’t there. Instead, Noiz looks affronted, if not outright malevolent.

He knows he’s powerless should it come to a battle of sheer strength but Noiz maintains his vehement mien. Koujaku would take any hesitation as an opportunity to proceed. Though Koujaku’s intentions aren’t inherently harmful, Noiz doesn’t think he’s ready to get anything else shoved inside him. Not when he’s no lick closer to figuring out what Aoba stuffed in his stomach in the first place.

He has managed to not think about it these past few days (in no small part thanks to Koujaku’s presence occupying every waking moment) but this sudden find reminds him that peace isn’t always as real as it seems.

“Mmrrhhnnn.” Koujaku frowns at him, finally registering Noiz’ resistance as something he couldn’t just win over with kisses or sloppy blow jobs.

“Get off me,” Noiz reiterates his plea. “Please.” He tugs Koujaku’s hands away, relieved when they comply. Pushing the larger body back, Noiz manages to sit up and close his legs to dissuade any further attempt.

“Nnngghhh.” Koujaku is most certainly whining, and it’s not the sexy kind.

Noiz feels sorry for him, saying as much whilst keeping his hands over Koujaku’s. He squeezes the scarred claws, muttering gratitude to the man for finally listening but the words barely left his lips when Koujaku cuts them off with a huge huff. The hulking body shakes him off completely, gold eyes not even sparing him a glance as Koujaku stalks away.

Frustration is rolling off Koujaku’s muscled back, hunched over as he is at the opposite end of the room.

“Koujaku…” Noiz calls out, admittedly lost at what he’s supposed to say. When Koujaku turns farther away from him, Noiz’ own posture sags, knowing that it’s going to take more than empty consolations to get Koujaku to even  _ breathe _ in his general direction again. He’s about to head over when the slight smarting from his stomach distracts him. Noiz rubs a thumb at the raised skin, noting the reddened indents but it doesn’t look like Koujaku’s sharp claws have managed to pierce through.

Noiz wonders what if, though. What if Koujaku managed to rip apart his sutures, something that Noiz’ weak, hesitant hands never could do. If his wound was reopened, sweet warm blood pouring out, would Noiz finally find out what has been implanted without his consent. A tracking device? But no, they usually put those on the nape, Noiz recalls from what few movies he’d seen. A bomb? Triggered to explode should he leave Oval Tower’s premises, probably. He pokes at the crude smiling curve that the scars form under his belly, feeling for  _ something _ under his skin but what he gets is his half-hard dick flopping over.

“Not now boner,” Noiz mutters, giving up his search in favor of hitching the hospital gown over his member. He glares at the wilting tent over his groin, the wet patch on is sure to be a stiff inconvenience later. Why didn’t Aoba give him underwear? With all these new amenities, the guy could’ve afforded a set of clean briefs, Noiz thinks sourly.

“My, my, trouble in paradise already?”

Speak of the devil.

“None of your business,” Noiz retorts, which only gets Aoba chuckling.

“I saw everything,” Aoba says, gesturing at the glass wall of their confinement, eyes set on the hunched figure by the urinal. “You were awfully rude, pushing Koujaku away like that. What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter?” Noiz repeats in an incredulous tone, standing up to level himself with Aoba. “I’ll tell you what’s the matter. You cut me up and stuff  _ I don’t even know what _ inside of me and you just expect me to wing it?! What if it’s triggered or it goes off--?!”

“Quit your yapping,” Aoba rebukes, amusement curling at his lips. “Triggers? Explosions? What are you, paranoid?”

Noiz bristles, unable to find remarks scathing enough to bruise the other man.

“Oh you are!” Aoba gleefully concludes. “Good.”

“Just tell me what you did,” Noiz demands, barely keeping his mounting anger in check.

Pure white pupils stare, condescending. Aoba looks away first, wearing a haughty little grin. He goes over to Koujaku with swift, confident steps, meeting the distrustful glare with a smile. “ _ Koujaku _ seems to get the right idea,” Aoba coos. “Sit up, darling~”

Limbs moving of their own accord bring Koujaku out of his curled position. The glare he wears only grows, jaw locking tightly as Aoba leans over.

“Ahh just look at you!” Aoba brushes the hair out of Koujaku’s eyes, immaculate hands cupping the handsomely feral face. “So ravishing! So…” His gaze drops to the unmistakable erection on Koujaku’s groin, barely covered by his wrecked kimono. “Potent…” Aoba licks his lips. “If Noiz doesn’t want a piece of you, then I would  _ gladly _ –”

“Get your hands off him!” Noiz comes up to them, looking livid.

Aoba’s doting expression fades to irritation. He grabs the approaching Noiz by the jaw and forces it shut. “Don’t you shout at me!”

Koujaku snarls from the floor, incensed at the manhandling of his mate, but Aoba (for once) ignores him.

“You don’t get a say in anything,” Aoba intones, boring into defiant green eyes. “You’re a useless, pathetic wench who _ never _ gets anything right. You ruin  _ everything _ , so don’t you talk back to me when I have so graciously delivered purpose to your miserably insignificant life.”

The room falls quiet at the end of Aoba’s tirade, only the sounds of their breathing reverberate through the enclosure. Aoba drops his hold, practically tossing Noiz away like he was garbage. He composes himself, wearing a satisfied smile at finally being able to let it all out, finding his reward in Noiz’ lack of contention. And that look on his face, heh.

 

A quiet  _ whoosh _ announces the arrival of two masked cronies, one of them holding up a metal tray. Noiz doesn’t pretend that he doesn’t know what it means.

“No! Go away!” It’s pathetic, the way he tries to crawl back, heels and elbows scraping the polished floor as Aoba’s attendants advance on him.

“Stay still,” Aoba says and Noiz’ body obediently locks into place. Koujaku gets on his haunches, looking ready to maul their unwelcome guests but another word from Aoba keeps him in his place. “I’m doing this for you, Koujaku, so just sit tight and watch.” He presses a doting kiss to the mop of red hair. Looking to the masked figures, he signals for them to proceed.

Noiz’ protest doesn’t make it past his throat. One of the attendants pick up a loaded syringe while the other hitches up the hospital gown and presses Noiz’ legs down. A cotton swab wipes at a small circular area over his pelvis and he thinks he felt the gloved hands holding him down waver just a little. But then the needle is pushing through his skin, injecting another dose of whatever it is that Aoba’s poisoning his body with and Noiz despises his helplessness.

Aoba dismisses the masks shortly after that but he stays to gloat. Noiz finds it easier to watch them go, holding their blank-eyed stares rather than look back at the white menace that has remained.

“You’re dying to find out what I’m up to, aren’t you?” Aoba’s giddy voice fills the room like some noxious gas. “Silly boy, I never let go of what’s mine but…”

Green eyes flicker, drawn towards the sound of heavy robes hitting the floor. Noiz beholds Aoba’s stark nakedness, pristine and flawless and horribly seductive. 

“Koujaku’s needs come first,” Aoba says, glancing at Noiz over a smooth and pale shoulder. “I should think we’re both in agreement to that. Believe me, this is going to hurt you more than it hurts me.”

It doesn’t sound like Aoba’s hurting, though, not even when Koujaku draws blood from the junction of his neck and shoulders. He sighs and moans and makes every kind of lewd noise that grates on Noiz’ ears, makes him sick to the stomach. His body burns with shame and indignation, dick twitching at the sight of Koujaku’s manhood but his mouth tastes like vomit watching Aoba have his way with it.

_ Mine _ , his mind screams,  _ He’s mine, mine, mine. Get away! Leave him alone!  _ but Noiz’ body remains immobile, held in place by an absolute command.

Koujaku’s face is contorted in rage but Aoba revels in it, engaging in kisses that tears at his lips.

Noiz breathes in the smell of sex and wishes he could just choke on it.

Soon, but not soon enough, Aoba dismounts, semen running down his inner thighs, and puts his robes back in order, looking very much satisfied.

  
  


The rest of the day passes in silence. Noiz grips his own arms tight enough to leave crescent welts on his skin. Koujaku remains in his corner, more subdued than before. Lunch comes but neither of them touch it, buried too deep in their own thoughts, unwilling to return to cruel reality.

When his blurry gaze finally comes into focus, Noiz finds himself looking at Koujaku’s back, the ever-blooming flowers rippling with the man’s movement. He should go to him, he thinks, comfort him and let him know everything’s okay now. Aoba’s gone. He’s not going to hurt them anymore.

What filthy lies.

Noiz knows they’re not safe. Never will be so long as they’re here. Aoba has eyes everywhere and he won’t be so lax as to let them plan another escape like last time.

Still, Noiz can’t stand being away from Koujaku. Not after what happened. So he stands on shaky legs, empty stomach grumbling. He looks at their food provisions left beside the door, long-gone cold. Noiz considers for a moment before picking it up, then he makes his way over to the isolated figure at the corner of the room.

Koujaku’s form tenses, evidently hearing his approach, so Noiz voices a careful, “It’s just me… I… you must be hungry.”

He hears a scoff, muffled under the curtain of hair, but Koujaku doesn’t make a move so Noiz figures it’s okay to come closer.

“It’s no use starving in here,” he whispers in the room’s silence, taking a paper-cup that’s gone a bit soggy from the food tray. There’s also bread and meat and cheese, plenty for the consumption of just two people but Noiz’ appetite isn’t having any of it. He picks up the cheese, nibbling on the edge of it to ease his hunger. Water refreshes his dry throat, lukewarm but much better than the toilet water by miles.

Beside him, Koujaku shuffles, drawn out of his shell at the smell of food. Hair covers his face, leaving only one gold eye to peek at the meal presented to him.

Noiz holds in a breath as the lone eye regards him. Slowly, he offers his cup, still half-full. “Drink,” he suggests, surprisingly himself with how his hand doesn’t shake in the slightest.

Koujaku unfurls from his position, bones audibly popping in their joints as he works them after long hours of non-movement. He sniffs at the cup and lets Noiz hold it to his lips, pouring the soothing liquid into his mouth.

The thriving companionship they’ve cultivated upon reunion now hangs tarnished by the harsh reminder of their respective positions. They eat in silence.

* * *

The next day dawns late, finding Koujaku curled up underneath bedsheets. He’s still leaning against the wall from yesterday and Noiz couldn’t have dragged him across the room to their little nest so the confused moan-yawn he lets out upon waking is completely understandable. He sniffs the air, smelling breakfast and, more importantly, his mate nearby.

Noiz looks over at him, wearing a tired little smile. His clothes are pulled up to his chest, fingers tracing over the scar on his stomach. It's one of many that Koujaku recognizes, but this seems to be the newest. They were healing, purpled skin slowly fading, but Noiz seemed especially fixated on this one.

Koujaku makes a sound, inquisitive as he drags one pointed finger over the ridged skin. Noiz’ hand covers his own after he had traced the lengthy scar. The smaller hand is warm and reassuring so he moves closer, nose pressing against the side of Noiz’ leg.

“Still sleepy?” Noiz asks, to which Koujaku huffs in response. “Sorry,” he mumbles, squeezing the claw he holds. “You can lie on my lap if you need a pillow.”

Noiz smooths his clothes down, covering himself lest his invitation be misconstrued. Then he tugs at Koujaku’s hand, urging the older man to come closer. Koujaku moves lethargically but manages to get into position, arms loosely wrapped around Noiz’ waist.

His cheek rests on Noiz’ lap, face half buried into the blond’s stomach.

Careful touches alight on his shoulder, pushing his hair to the side, then that warm palm presses down on his back.

Noiz rubs soothing circles into the tan expanse, feeling the hard muscles underneath inked skin. 

“I thought about it,” he says, voice evenly measured. “What Aoba’s planning… and I have a… faint idea of what it’s all about.” Koujaku shuffles, letting out a grunt that Noiz takes to mean that he’s listening. It gives Noiz some courage to continue, even knowing that the man likely doesn’t understand half of what he’s saying.

“I can’t hold out on you forever,” Noiz continues, stroking Koujaku’s back, up his neck then down again; it’s almost like he’s petting a particularly huge cat.  _ He is quite a beast _ , a voice from the back of his head supplies. “Bastard probably hinged this entire thing on that,” he laughs. “So what do you say we try again?”

Koujaku cracks open an eye, staring up at him.

Noiz wears a crooked grin.

Resigned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not v confident with my shiroba  
> 's why this took so long gomen >_>;;;
> 
> slow development is slow but enough hints have been dropped so if the direction im heading is a squick for some, you've got enough time to back away before we get down to icky business~


	3. Chapter 3

Aoba doesn’t bother them again. At least, not directly. He catches the look of resignation in Noiz’ eyes through the glass wall and he smiles, triumphant. Koujaku’s answering growl is silenced when the visiting masks speak, ordering his obedience. They have a voice like Scrap and come bearing the same syringe.

Noiz strokes Koujaku’s cheek in an pacifying caress. “It’s okay, they’re not here to hurt you.” Koujaku frowns at him, unconvinced, but Noiz stands then and faces the white-clad men.

 _Are they even human?_ Noiz wonders, pulling up his hospital gown to reveal his hip. The masks proceed with the injection, if they were thrown off by Noiz’ cooperation they didn’t show it. All Noiz cares about is that the sooner they get this regimen over with, the more time he can spend planning and preparing for the inevitable next step.

True enough, they are left in peace once Aoba’s attendants exit the room. Koujaku, freed from their mind control, tackles Noiz to the ground, growling in his face.

Pain erupts where his body hit the floor. “What are you acting up for?” Noiz demands, nearly crushed by Koujaku’s weight on top of him. “They’re gone. They won’t be bothering us anymore… well, for today at least.” Noiz mutters that last bit from the corner of his mouth, frowning thoughtfully until a pair of lips steals it away.

Possessive is how Noiz would come to describe it later, when he’s finally allowed to catch his breath. For now, he allows Koujaku to lay siege to his mouth with teeth and tongue. Sharp nails dig through his clothes and into his skin, clamping down then relaxing repetitively as though Koujaku is trying to claw out the serum. Not that he knows _what_ it is, exactly, but the idea of that big shiny needle being anywhere near his mate must’ve been a right cause for worry.

Noiz rubs the muscular arms that are pinning him down, soothing motions that culminate in Koujaku pulling back with little more than a grumble. The furrowed look cast on him tugs at Noiz’ heartstrings. “You… don’t want me to get hurt either… is that it?”

Koujaku purrs, finally releasing Noiz’ hips so he can lay on top of the blond.

It’s nothing sexual, Noiz notes with relief. In fact, it’s as if Koujaku’s covering him up, hiding him, wary of any more intruders. The masks will surely return tomorrow - and the day after that, too - still bearing that foul concoction to inject into Noiz’ body. It’s probably not another dose of aphrodisiac as Noiz isn’t feeling any hornier than usual, which in itself is a feat considering the intimate proximity he shares with Koujaku regularly.

“You…” Noiz begins, not sure if he’s going to tell him off or what, but he ends up laughing. A faint chuckle as Noiz brings his arms around Koujaku’s waist, nuzzling into the warm body.

“Love you.”

He hasn’t said that quite enough, not before Platinum Jail, not during their first imprisonment… now seems like a good time as any.

“ _I love you_ ,” Noiz repeats, this time in his native tongue. He hides his face under Koujaku’s chin, eyes squeezed shut as his cheeks burn bright.

Koujaku hums, nose buried in Noiz’ hair as he breathes deeply, content.

* * *

Koujaku’s scent is heavy in his lungs but it’s a different hefty weight that wakes Noiz up in the middle of the night.

The lights are dimmed, their only means to differentiate day and night in this windowless prison. There’s hardly a sound save for deep breaths that aren’t quite snores and the faint thrum of electricity through the building. Sweat has condensed on his skin, though the rest of the room doesn’t feel particularly hot. The culprit is the stiff length poking his back, unmoving but definitely there.

Noiz listens to the heaving grunts interspersed with Koujaku’s exhales, swallowing hard when a brief shuffle presses the man’s erection between his cheeks through layers of cloth.

“Koujaku…” he whispers, hands fisting into his clothes as he feels a stirring down below. The older man’s body is draped over his back, grunting breaths hot against his nape, but Noiz receives no response save for another slow drag.

Heat creeps up his spine, making him squeeze his legs together as it spreads all over, bringing attention to his own growing problem.

“Nnnngg.”

Noiz cuts off the gasp that’s trying to escape his throat, a sound that would have been a mix of surprise and arousal. Koujaku’s arms rest heavy around his waist but Noiz manages to turn in his hold despite their entanglement.

Koujaku is asleep, only a slight frown to tell of his less than peaceful dreaming.

A muted whine seeps out of Noiz’ pursed lips, friction sparking where their erections meet. He shudders, unable to help the counteracting grind he delivers as a reflex, not even remotely prepared for the spike of pleasure that shoots through his veins from his timid movement. His body grows weak upon hearing Koujaku’s deep moan, instantly missing his passionate touch --  something he’d denied the both of them out of paranoia at what has been done to him -- but not anymore. Noiz knows what the stitches mean and he has a good idea of what the constant injections are for -- they’re preparing his body for what’s to come. Face to face with Koujaku now, Noiz’ resistance wavers dangerously. He’s still scared of being proven right… still scared of truly crossing the line but…

Koujaku’s grinds against him, a little more insistent.

He has been behaving so well, too, smothering Noiz with affection but backing away when it proves too much for the latter. Now all his pent up desires are slipping through.

Uncertain hands land on Koujaku’s chest and Noiz swallows at the feel of sweat slick skin, breathing in the distinct aroma as he subtly presses his hips back. A rumbling groan shakes the taut pectorals, Koujaku’s body responding in kind. Noiz takes a deep breath and leads one hand downwards, slipping it between their groins to cup the straining erection under Koujaku’s robes. It feels hot and heavy in his palm, just touching it makes his own dick twitch in excitement. Noiz watches Koujaku’s face in the dim light, breathing in the ragged exhales as he finally frees him.

For one split second Noiz can’t actually believe he’s going through with this. Then he wraps his fingers around the swollen shaft, making Koujaku grunt and shudder. He starts out slow and measured, squeezing tighter as he nears the head where pearls of precum begin to form. Thumbing the slit and spreading the wetness around, Noiz feels Koujaku’s cock grow inside his fist, short huffs filling the air between them. His mouth waters.

Koujaku’s arms fall loose around him, the tense lines of his body yielding to pleasure. Noiz takes the opportunity to move, lightly kissing his Adam’s apple and tasting the sweat on his skin. He buries his nose at the the little nook between prominent collarbones, kissing Koujaku’s sternum. Lips continue their path down the tattooed torso while Noiz guides Koujaku onto his back until the man’s leaking cock is standing tall right in front of him.

Green eyes look up but Koujaku’s face is turned the other way, still presumably asleep although his chest is heaving with every deep breath. Noiz similarly inhales, getting his fill of Koujaku’s scent and it wakes a repressed hunger that now demands to be sated. A smile flits over the corner of Noiz’ mouth, his pink tongue snaking out and swiping up a drop of precum.

The flavor brings up memories of deep nights, fragrant incense, and red bed sheets. He sets his lips on the flushed shaft, feeling the velvety texture and raised veins, licking curiously at the underside. Noiz’ strokes meet every upward thrust, his free hand holding on Koujaku’s hip to steady him. It thrills him to get a reaction like this, to _feel_ it beneath his own lips, his fingertips. He takes the head into his mouth, marvelling at the stronger taste he finds there. Koujaku grunts and a fresh splash of precum lands on his tongue; Noiz greedily slurps it up.

Guttural moans resound through the stillness of the room, echoing down Noiz’ spine in a delightful shiver. The blunt head slides against the roof of his mouth and he hollows his cheeks to feel every curve of its length. Saliva pools in his mouth, mixing with the steady trickle of precum from Koujaku’s cock; some of it spills out for deft fingers to use as lubrication. What doesn’t fit in his mouth, Noiz grips tight. Then he brings in his other hand, weighing the taut sac and rolling it in his palm. He sucks hard, tonguing the sensitive head when he pulls back only to take it deeper once more.

Noiz ruts against the floor when his own cock grows desperate for action, making him moan only for the sound to be muffled by the hot flesh occupying his mouth. He breathes in, quick and desperate through his nose, jaw growing sore as he tries to avoid biting -- Koujaku didn’t really like that, even in the past. His eyes slip shut for a few seconds, remembering how Koujaku would guide his head, never pulling hard enough for him to feel it but (he assumes) carding lovingly through his locks, murmuring praises all the while. The current Koujaku would never do that, Noiz muses, pulling off completely with his hands fisting tight at the reminder of what he’d lost.

A wet splat hits his nose and upper lip, followed by another on his cheek that drips down to his chin. Noiz is surprised but realization comes quick with a renewed grip, wringing out a stream of viscous semen that he doesn’t bother dodging. It scorches his already heated skin, and it smells… familiar… Koujaku’s very essence. Noiz moans, quiet and shuddering, cleaning off remnants of seed from the tip once Koujaku is done. He works his tongue over the slit, sipping like it was a straw, basking in the smell of sex and grinding his erection against damp fabric on the floor to ease the need for his own release.

“Nnnrr…”

Hazy eyes blink towards clarity, adjusting to the dim room to find a golden pair staring back. Noiz flushes, a feeling of shame dropping down his stomach like a boulder; his dick, however, seems to have a different idea. He struggles to sit up, suddenly sheepish yet unable to break eye contact.

_What did he just do? What on earth was he thinking, going down on Koujaku like that?_

Koujaku scoffs, pushing his broad body into a recline. He looks down at his exposed member (slick and imposing) then at the semen splattered over Noiz’ features. The air is heavy with a smell that he knows to be his own, mixed in with the rousing scent of his mate. A low growl falls from his parted lips, nose in the air as he gets on all fours to follow the call.

Noiz keeps still as Koujaku approaches, feeling rather small as the man gets into his space, sniffing behind his ear, under his jaw, smearing a bit  of cum in the process. Koujaku grunts something that almost sounds affirmative and the tent in the hospital gown perks higher. Quick breaths matching his racing heartbeat as Koujaku looms closer, sniffing the cooling semen on his cheeks, his lips.

“Koujaku,” Noiz whispers, barely keeping his voice in check as lustful thoughts whirl in his mind now that the object of his affections is up close. “I… I want...”

He needs to say it, to be decisive now before he’s too far gone. His trembling body stabilizes when Koujaku presses their foreheads together, golden eyes gleaming under shadow, looking wise and… loving.

Noiz brings up his hands, feeling the movement of Koujaku’s jaw as the older man licks off the drying seed from his chin. Just holding him like this is reassuring, it settles the anxiety that has resurfaced, rattling in his bones.

“I want this… with you,” he begins. “I’m afraid but… I don’t want to be. Not anymore.” Noiz rubs his thumbs over the prominent cheeks. “Aoba was right. I have nothing… except for this.” He pecks Koujaku’s lips. “And you deserve more. I want to give you more… and I can.”

Whatever ill intentions Aoba had in experimenting with his body, Noiz is having none of it. He only knows the basics as the subject never really interested him before but it’s not like he has the opportunity to double-check the facts right now. The end result would be the same and though the hardships to get there would be unimaginable, Noiz is ready to face them.

The exact words may have flown right over Koujaku’s head but he knows an invitation when it’s presented to him; not to mention the wakeup call he just had certainly set expectations on where they’re headed. He leans in, kissing Noiz slowly, a sharp intake of air ghosting over his lips when the latter’s breath hitches at his lead.

Clawed hands mimic his hold on Koujaku’s face and Noiz gets hit with a bout of squeamishness at the feel of cooled semen smearing on his skin. “W-Wait…”

He pulls away just enough to hitch up his gown and clean his face on it. Looking at the soiled cloth in his hands makes him think of how unlikely it is that he’ll be provided better clothes so Noiz pulls the entire thing off and tosses it aside. The appraising look he gets from Koujaku fans the flames burning him up. Noiz smirks, feeling more confident.

“Come here.”

* * *

It’s hot.

Noiz thinks he’s gotten a fever, groggily opening his eyes to find the room all bright. Must be morning, then. There’s movement at the corner of the room and he cranes his head to see Koujaku hunched before their breakfast tray.

Huh.

Noiz stares some more, wondering if maybe the entire room’s temperature has gone up and Koujaku’s feeling hot too. Is that why he’s munching on breakfast in the nude?

…

Noiz sits upright in alarm, blankets slipping his body and revealing his own nakedness. He finds bitemarks and scratches and the healing stitches on his stomach on full display. Color rises to his cheeks at the blatant reminder, memories rushing back. His back does feel a little sore, now that he thinks on it.

Koujaku looks over at the commotion, plain expression brightening when he sees his mate risen. He grabs a fruit and his half-eaten egg roll, bounding over excitedly.

“Feh!” Noiz almost swats the food out of Koujaku’s hands when the man crowds into his space, nuzzling his version of a good morning greeting. Koujaku sniffs his neck, lips brushing over a particularly dark love bite -- his mark for all intents and purposes. Noiz’ defenses crumble and he leans back with a tired smile, letting go of the blankets that were meant to cover him. He notes their scratchy quality, then almost immediately finds the answer in the copious stains splattered all over.

Ah.

“Nnnghhrr.” Koujaku holds up the peeled orange to Noiz’ mouth, warm gaze encouraging him to take a bite.

“Thank you,” Noiz says, taking the fruit and setting it on his lap, avoiding the dried seed that painted his legs; he can feel more of it on his ass and it’s not easily ignorable now that he’s aware.

Disappointed that Noiz didn’t take a bite, Koujaku offers the other thing in his hand.

The smell of sweet meat wafts into his nose at the same time that something soft and warm and oily is pressed against his mouth.

“Mnn,” Koujaku grunts, jutting his chin and lightly pushing the roll against pursed lips.

Noiz wants to say he isn’t hungry but that would contradict the soundless rumbling he could feel in his stomach. Maybe that’s a different thing now, he wonders, lightly touching his scars. Could it have formed already? He’s terrified to find out. A more insistent pressure against his mouth demands his attention and Noiz holds Koujaku’s hand steady by the wrist, biting at the proffered sustenance.

Koujaku is satisfied with his cooperative display and eats a bite himself.

“You really did a number on me,” Noiz says conversationally, dividing the orange into half then picking off a slice. He eats it to dissuade Koujaku from shoving more egg roll into his mouth, savoring the refreshing juice that splashes on his tongue.

Not to say that Koujaku came away from last night unscathed, Noiz realizes, seeing lines to match his fingers sliding down the tattooed back. He loses a couple of seconds staring at them, recalling how he put them there, gasping and insatiable, desires bursting like a dam too full. Noiz shudders, plump fruit between red-kissed lips, cool against his temperate body.

Koujaku’s gaze is trained on him, watching juice dribble down his chin as teeth break through the orange’s outer membrane. A sweet, fruity smell mixes with Noiz’ scent and it’s not a bad combination. He finishes his food without paying it much attention, entranced .

“Stop that.” Noiz throws a slice of orange at Koujaku’s face, his own features burning with embarrassment, being on the receiving end of what he can only describe as a simpering look. Koujaku blinks, picks up the fruit, then eats it, turning back to Noiz with his grin wider than before. An odd squeezing sensation wraps around Noiz’ heart.

“Hmph.”

 

Following breakfast, Noiz stations himself at the toilet, running a damp pillowcase over his skin. Cleaning up is never as fun as getting dirty, much less so when Noiz has to scoop out the nasty stuff that’s been left inside overnight. At least his ass isn’t hurting as much as he initially thought.

“This is all your fault,” he tells Koujaku, who’s watching a little too intently as Noiz’ finger wiggles past the first ring of muscle. Noiz had tried to face away but Koujaku’s gaze followed him everywhere so the effort was moot. “Pervert.”

Noiz huffs, trying to keep his mind blank as he goes poking about. It’s all moist inside, muscles sucking his digit deeper, likening it to the nice, thick member that had filled him up just a few hours prior. A suppressed whine slips out when he brushes against his prostate on his way out, a hot flush rising instantaneously all over. Underneath, rippling water reflect the view of his ass amidst musty excrements. It’s not as much of a turn off as Noiz had hoped, repeating the motion until he’s as clean as he can manage.

Sitting on the bowl with one leg propped up on the toilet seat, Noiz’ entrance is completely exposed, puckered up and twitching from his recent endeavors. He rubs the pad of his finger just inside his sphincter, curious at what more he could find as he slowly sinks it one knuckle at a time. No longer concerned with cleaning up, Noiz feels around a little more thoroughly, trying to figure if he can detect anything that’s changed.

Something _ought_ to be different, right? Something to… bridge… the, ah… mm… parts?

Noiz slows down, caught in the searing tightness of his inner walls when his ass constricts around his middle finger. When he could reach no further, Noiz twists his finger within its tight encasement… probing…

“Haa…” Noiz’ shoulders tremble, ears burning as he withdraws the slick digit. It’s not supposed to feel that good and yet his hand hovers close, as if waiting for the next opportunity to enter.

What the hell is he thinking? Noiz shakes his head to clear it. He can’t let this fever overcome him. Deciding that he’s done, Noiz shifts to get off the bowl when too-familiar claws stop him.

Koujaku’s hands are gripping his legs, keeping them raised despite Noiz’ effort to close them.

“Oi!” Noiz slaps his hand against Koujaku’s face to push him off.

“Rrrrhhn,.”

“Hey!”

Koujaku ignores that, too. He takes a deep sniff, rubbing his nose against the sweaty palm before his tongue makes contact.

Noiz shivers at the wetness, stiff disposition growing pliant as Koujaku starts sucking on his fingers. It feels like there’s a one way connection from his digits to his dick, the latter stirring with every languid stroke of Koujaku’s tongue. Noiz’ resistance grows weak as his body responds eagerly to the stimulation.

“You know that came from my ass, right?” He says shortly, shallow breath betraying his curt tone.

Mouth wide open, Koujaku’s look never wavers as Noiz’ fingers feel up his teeth; he’s careful not to bite too hard that he’ll accidentally make him bleed. Hurting Noiz is the last thing on his mind.

“No. That doesn’t matter, does it?”

Noiz pulls his fingers free, mimicking Koujaku’s half-lidded gaze as he levels their faces. Koujaku’s nose twitches, sniffing him, and Noiz sees his pupils dilate until there’s but a ring of gold in his eyes. Noiz kisses his upper lip and the muscular frame sways toward him, chasing the brief contact, untrimmed nails digging just a little deeper into his thighs. Even if he’s all exposed and his clean up could be mistaken for prep, Koujaku still waits for his cue. That’s… Noiz doesn’t have the word for it. He breathes in… Koujaku’s scent is intimate, familiar, and… rousing. It makes him wonder if he smells just as good to his mate, if Koujaku can detect the state of his libido from just that.

Koujaku doesn’t stop him when he dismounts this time, though that might be because he’s moving _on_ to him rather than away. Koujaku’s arms catch him, the same way that his mouth readily meets Noiz’ barrage of nips and kisses.

Unseen flames lick every inch of his skin that presses against Koujaku’s own bare form, yet Noiz can’t bear to tear himself away. He hangs on for dear life when Koujaku gets to his feet, daring to peek and decode Koujaku’s intentions a second before his back hits the wall. Not harshly, mind you, but with just enough force for Noiz to appreciate the sculpt of Koujaku’s torso that’s pinning him flat against the vertical surface. A chuckle detaches him from the invasive tongue that’s lapping up his moans and whimpers. Noiz’ arms drape over broad shoulders, fingers gliding through crimson hair to grope at the shifting muscles on the tattooed back. He missed this -- being wanted, desired like no one else ever mattered.

Canines catch the red swell of abused lips, teasing the supple flesh. Koujaku has been teetering on the edge of his arousal all morning, swaying between sated and needy until his mate decided to give him a show. There’s a different kind of smell about Noiz, it’s been there ever since their reunion and it amplifies his appeal to Koujaku’s baser instincts, more so now that they’re in the midst of copulation. Noiz’ legs are secured around his waist, giving him free reign to sheath his cock inside with little regard to prep.

Noiz grits his teeth, invasive pain radiating from protesting muscles as Koujaku penetrates him. He’s panting, high-pitched and near-tearful, willing his body to relax around the intrusion. A rough tongue licks up his neck, exposed with the way Noiz has thrown his head back, watery eyes set on the ceiling.

“Nnhhghr…”

A gruff whisper blows by his ear, followed by teeth tugging on his earlobe and nibbling on his jaw.

“I _know_ ,” Noiz hisses, his own member throbbing half-hard between their bodies. He could feel the blunt head nudging its way deeper, the knowledge of so much more to come fills him with hazy glee. Koujaku nurses another bite beside the already purpled hickey on the meat of his shoulder and Noiz arches into it, trembling legs held open wider as Koujaku pushes in.  Noiz kisses his matted hair, his temples, the apples of his cheeks, trajectory broken when Koujaku begins a series of shallow thrusts. Keeping one arm wrapped around Koujaku’s neck, Noiz reaches for his own dick, sighing as his body finally gets with the program.

Claw-like nails grip the meat of Noiz’ ass and Koujaku seats himself to the hilt. Chest to chest, he feels the rapid breaths Noiz sucks in as he acclimates to his girth, squeezing then relaxing around his engorged prick. He nuzzles a smile against sweat-sheened skin. Noiz holds him by the back of his head, guiding him up, up, up until his smile is pressed at the corner of a similarly quirked mouth. Lidded green eyes catch his gaze, rimmed with red yet ever so inviting. A slick hand slides over his taut stomach, the crossed legs behind him urging him closer as Noiz carefully works his hips, rocking up then down on his cock.

The position is difficult, being held up against the wall gives him little space to maneuver but these petty nuances are blown away when Koujaku finally starts moving in earnest. Fingernails drag over tan skin, mouths crashing in messy kisses between powerful thrusts. Noiz moans and gasps and squeezes down on every pull, the smell of sweat and sex and  ragged exhales assault his nose, skin feeling hot and raw especially where Koujaku’s hips keeps smacking his cheeks.

“Ahh ah--hnghaa.” He sounds like a broken record but the intelligible encouragement serves to drive Koujaku further, deeper. His tongue fills up Noiz’ mouth, sucking on the same wet muscle there and riding the full-body vibration that wracks his mate, making Noiz fall into him, clutching desperately, heatedly kissing him back. Koujaku slams Noiz against the wall, barely aware of one leg hanging loose as Noiz reaches over to grab his ass. The result is beads of sweat flying off his back, thrusting quick and shallow into the packed heat until the dam inside of him breaks.

Eyes shoot wide open as Koujaku unloads inside of him, hot and plenty, cock buried balls deep as Noiz sucks in his release. Noiz feels his face burning under Koujaku’s intense stare, the man’s sharp canines grinding together with the way his walls constrict even tighter. Belatedly, he realizes he’s been digging his fingers into Koujaku’s ass, leaving deep indents when they’ve both calmed somewhat. His erection rubs against Koujaku’s abs, smearing whitish fluid as the man molds their bodies together, mouth just beside his own as he catches his breath.

Noiz has one foot on the ground, though it’s far from ready to support him; the other leg is still wrapped around a trim waist. Koujaku is bent over a little, arms wrapped around Noiz’ middle, dick slipping out an inch or so as he holds him.

“Hmmm.”

“...’ey…” Noiz cups Koujaku’s jaw with one hand, rubbing a thumb over his cheek as he leans into him, temples pressed side by side. His body is still wound up, nearing climax but not quite there even. Lips press into moist skin, tasting salt as he licks down towards the open mouth. He bites Koujaku’s bottom lip, soft and playful, a whine underneath his breath.

“What about me?” he murmurs, tweaking a nipple with the hand that’s not holding Koujaku’s face to him. Their noses bump together and Koujaku nips at him in retaliation, a low purr bridging the gap when Noiz nudges him closer with the heel at the base of his spine.

Semen squelches out as Koujaku’s cock pushes in some. He recognizes the wheedling tone, Noiz’ groping and contractions keep him from going soft; Koujaku doesn’t really mind doing another round. Drinking up the sounds Noiz makes as he draws away, Koujaku lightly scratches the back of Noiz’ thigh, silencing the blond’s protest with passionate kisses.

Both his feet are touching the ground now but Noiz isn’t confident that they can hold him up should Koujaku pull back from him completely. Viscous semen slides down his legs, growing cold and making him shiver. Noiz’ breath hitches when sharp nails trail up his sides, Koujaku’s body slotting against him, erections rubbing together.

“Mmn no, wait...” Noiz’ words slip out sluggish, drunk on lust and love, his body grinding back on instinct. Koujaku hums back, eyebrows raised slightly in question. “Inside,” he mouths over Koujaku’s jaw, finally relenting on the man’s nipples so he can lightly push at his chest. “Knock me up, c’mon…”

Koujaku lets him turn around, nuzzling into the crook of his neck soon as Noiz has his back to him. Noiz raises his ass invitingly, wet and wide and waiting for him to fill it again. His cock throbs at the sight, slipping between the reddened cheeks to the sound of a most grateful moan. Hands grapple at the smooth wall, the entire right side of his face is plastered on it, lewd noises mixing with his exhales. Noiz’ legs are trembling, his cock leaks and his balls hang heavy and full between them. Koujaku’s hands are on his hips, keeping him still as he sheathes himself once more, length rubbing against the swollen prostate just to hear Noiz call his name over and over.

 

Noiz collapses, the blanket beneath him is damp with body fluids, smelling rather rank but at this point he couldn’t care less. It’s been three days and the fever burning him up from the inside is just about extinguished. His eyes flutter close, mouth soundlessly dropping open as Koujaku extracts himself. Noiz’ legs flop down and he takes the opportunity to stretch a little, golden eyes watching him with fascination. Lean arms reach up, palms wide open, Koujaku slinks closer until Noiz has both hands bracketing his face. A satisfied (if weary) grin flashes over Noiz’ features. “Lie with me.”

Gentle tugs lead him down their makeshift nest. Koujaku drapes an arm and leg over Noiz’ naked body, huddling close, protective. Noiz relaxes beneath him, trailing a hand down his neck, his arm, until their fingers are laced loosely together.

There has been no sound nor shadow of Aoba these past few days. His masked cronies only come to deliver food, never venturing inside but Noiz has caught them standing outside for extended periods. It didn’t really bother him that they’re watching, recording, whatever. This is what they were counting on, right? To get him and Koujaku fucking so they can spew out some kind of progeny, something that would _keep_ them here. Docile.

Noiz purses his lips. What would happen to him after this? Now that the deed has been done (more times than he thought he could handle), his anxieties are popping up again. What if he was wrong? And this is just another of Aoba’s twisted games, making him _think_ that he’d been modified when in fact nothing’s there and he’ll drive himself crazy waiting and waiting for _something_ that will never come --

Koujaku shifts, setting his chin atop Noiz’ head as his breathing evens out.

 _He’s worn out_ , Noiz thinks, matching every in- and exhale. He feels a little guilty now, going at Koujaku like he did, succumbing to the urges that flooded his system unbidden. It almost felt similar to that time Aoba made him drink an aphrodisiac concoction, the way every nerve was on fire, his mind clouding with desire and little else. Except this time it felt a lot more… natural.

Noiz once thought that acquiring tactile sensation would heal him, that being able to feel would bridge the numerous gaps in his life. Now he realizes they’re but another hurdle to overcome. Awareness distracts him, it makes him selfish and needy. Being around Koujaku only makes it so much easier to give in, to succumb and let the man ravish him.

 _But Koujaku wanted it, too_ , he argues with himself. Koujaku was rearing to jump him the second he entered this new prison but he waited until Noiz made the first decisive move. Wrapped up in Koujaku’s warmth now, Noiz wants nothing more than to be kept safe by him.

His grip on the claw-like hand grows tighter.

Who cares if this encounter ends up unfruitful? If nothing else, Noiz isn’t scared of Koujaku making love to him anymore.

But if it does result in something, then… well.

Noiz feels the hair at the top of his head sway with Koujaku’s exhale.

He won’t be dealing with it alone.

* * *

“You reek.”

Fingers freeze in the midst of knotted red hair, spine going rigid as he recognizes the voice he had hoped to never hear again. Noiz keeps quiet, wishing for it to just be a figment of his imagination but the resounding footsteps crush that flimsy hope to pieces.

Koujaku rises from his lap, mellow mien growing feral at the sight of their guest. Noiz grips his arm, less to hold him back and more to anchor himself. Just being in the same room as Aoba gives him goosebumps,

“What? Not even a hello?” Aoba teases, striding into Noiz’ field of vision with hands clasped behind him. “How rude.”

“Get out,” Noiz says, needing much effort to even keep a steady tone.

Aoba’s head tilts to the side, observing the blond and the way Koujaku is poised around him like a particularly vicious guard dog. It makes something awful heave in his chest but he refuses to let it show. “You understand what you got yourself into now, don’t you?”

Those pales eyes bore into him, as if they’re seeing right through his clothes and deeper still. Noiz squares his jaw, reassured by Koujaku’s solid presence beside him. “Nothing’s happened yet.”

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Aoba promises with vile certainty. ”You’ve been very… diligent once you set your mind to the task.”

Patches of color blot over Noiz’ cheeks. “That had nothing to do with you! I wasn’t--!”

“You’re going to see it through,” Aoba says and there’s something different about his voice. It summons a pinprick of fear, weighing low in Noiz’ belly. “And if you’re good, maybe I’ll let you live afterwards.”

His throat feels tight, like his tongue has retracted down in fear of getting caught between gnashing teeth. Noiz wants to retaliate against being spoken to like he’s some measly lab rat but Aoba’s threat rings clear; Noiz doesn’t want to die. Instinct tells him to prioritize safety -- it’s not just for his own now.

Satisfied with Noiz’ mute concession, Aoba turns to the beast and frowns at the simmering rage directed at him. “I liked you better in chains,” he says, wistful. “You’re going soft, being around such poor company. Maybe _those two_ can whip you back into shape.” Aoba nods to himself. He reaches out to pet Koujaku’s head but the man snaps a mouthful of sharp teeth at him; Aoba pulls back just in time, lips hitching in a grin. “Stay there, Koujaku. Noiz, get up. You’ve been missing out on your shots.”

Noiz’ body moves to comply, leaving a growling Koujaku behind him. The door opens, revealing the usual two masks. Noiz can’t say that he missed them. They pull up the hospital gown that’s creased and stained, making quick work of injecting Noiz with the usual load.

“Hormones,” Noiz states more than asks as the white-clad attendant holds up an empty syringe.

 

He has never been too fond of this body. It hasn’t been particularly kind, denying him the pleasure of human contact the second he came into this world. But now that it’s the only thing he has to his name, Noiz decides he’d best be on top of it as much as he can -- godless alterations and all. These changes are a step forwar and he would rather embrace the pain than never feel it again.

 

Aoba departs, telling them to behave, waving goodbye like he’d just been seeing animals at the zoo.

In a way, that’s what they are: nothing more than playthings for Aoba’s amusement.

The scars on Noiz’ stomach itches a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MPreg isn't everyone's cup of tea but here we are, so... yeah... next chapter should cover the nitty-gritties  
> at least i gave you 5k of smut before waving all you good folks on your way ^^


	4. Chapter 4

Koujaku is gone when he wakes up.

There’s no place to hide in their glass-walled prison and Noiz’ drowsy disposition is replaced with dread. Everything else seems to be in order -- the cot, the sink, the tray of food by the door -- but there’s a palpable absence hanging in the air. He feels cold, not even the blankets around him could abate the feeling. Noiz refuses to panic but it eats away at the back of his mind as he partakes of the breakfast set for one.

 

He has been standing at the glass wall for longer than he’d care to admit, peering at the spartan hallway and what little he could see beyond it. Poised as such, he anticipates the approach of a masked figure. Just one, bearing the hormone injection on a stainless steel tray.

Noiz stares him down from the other side of the glass but he is only given a cursory glance before it continues to the door.

A brief gust of air accompanies the white-clad enigma stepping inside. He seems to take in the state of the room for a moment before turning to Noiz.

“Time for your medicine,” it speaks, moving forward.

Noiz shakes his head. “Where’s Koujaku?”

“He’ll be back soon.”

“Bring him back _now_ ,” Noiz counters, still keeping his distance.

“I’m only here to give you your medicine,” the mask deflects. “Please stay still.”

“I won’t--”

“Please--”

“No!”

There’s a good four feet between them now, with Noiz staring down the intruder. The mask seems to be contemplating his next move. Noiz wonders if he’ll resort to force.

Armor-padded shoulders raise then stoop low, almost as if the man is sighing. He looks straight at Noiz when he speaks again, “ _Stay. Still._ ”

Noiz’ body locks up, not budging no matter how much he wills it to. He can only give his most scathing glare as the mask pulls up his dress and pushes the needle into him.

“If you hadn’t slept together, your body would’ve disposed of the unfertilized egg in due time,” the white-clad man says, speaking like a teacher to a stubborn class of one. “You need this to make things easier.”

Easier is relative, Noiz thinks mockingly. He so very badly wants to believe that having these shots are for the better but seeing the comedic stage mask announcing it gives him the exact opposite of confidence. The syringe pricks when it’s pulled out, spilling a drop of blood that the mask dutifully wipes clean.

“Don’t do anything rash,”  the uncanny being advises, gathering his things as well as the empty food tray by the door.

For a split second, Noiz gets the urge to attack. He’ll grab those plated shoulders then close in on his throat and force the answers out of that deceptively calm facade. He’ll steal his access card and get the hell out of here, free Koujaku from whatever prison they’ve kept him, and then --

The door slides shut.

Noiz watches the mask go as mobility slowly returns to his limbs. He slumps down into a heap on the floor, powerless.

The only thing he can do is wait.

 

Comedy Mask is back by himself the next day and Noiz is no more cooperative than before. He’s getting antsy. Aoba usually returns Koujaku by nighttime but it’s been a full 24 hours and not a shadow of either of them has been seen.

This time Noiz does grab at the white-clad man, the void-like silence of the room ringing in his ears. “Tell me where you took him!”

Gloved hands effortlessly loosen his grip, so Noiz takes to kicking wherever he could reach but it’s ineffective. The mask simply holds him at bay, refusing to throw a punch of his own and just waiting  for Noiz to tire.

Noiz would’ve taken to biting if it hadn’t occurred to him he’ll probably break his teeth. Nothing seems to faze the guy, like Noiz’ attacks don’t even register. The vice-like grip pushes him back, releases him.

The mask stands back, a silent dare for him to attack again. “M-- Aoba-san wouldn’t hurt him,” it speaks after a long couple of seconds, ticking sounds loud from the watch around its hand. Blond hair whips about violently as Noiz shakes his head; his hair has grown too long throughout his imprisonment and it will only grow longer still. No matter what anyone says, Noiz wouldn’t believe that Koujaku is safe until he holds him in his arms again.

A sigh, exasperated.

It’s no use, covering his ears.

 

“--don’t understand _how_ you do it… destroyed him... my responsibility…”

A vague stream disjointed statements lure Noiz out of sleep. The hallway outside is bright, a wide panel of it spills into the dim prison. Noiz has strategically placed himself just outside of its perimeter, peeking out from under the pile of blankets; they smell faintly of Koujaku, he has been breathing it in trying to keep himself together.

Luminescent eyes are pointed directly at him, cool, calculating and… something that Noiz can’t quite read.

“You’re weak… but he chooses you, lets you… yours...“

The door is wide open but Noiz shrinks away from it, keeping his arms around his stomach. His embrace turns stiff when he finally recognizes the slight figure by the door.

Aoba releases a huff of breath, observing the mound on the cot, lips pursed in what might be contempt. Dull green eyes watch him back.

 

It’s daylight when Noiz opens his eyes again, bones creaking as he unfurls from a fetal position. A red blot catches his attention, contrasting with the blinding white blur of the rest of the room. He hears a faint exhale and the rest of the room goes quiet like it’s holding its breath. Noiz sits up, focusing his bleary vision. There is indeed a heap of red by the door. His mouth falls open in a soundless gasp and he scrambles out of bed.

“...ou...k…” Noiz clears his throat, scratchy from lack of use. “Kou… jaku…”

The creature doesn’t stir but there’s no mistaking him now. Koujaku is slumped on his side, apparently in deep slumber. His wrists and ankles are crossed together, bruises telling of how they’d been bound not too long ago. Noiz sinks to his knees beside him, gingerly laying a cold hand on his cheek. It’s warm, solid.

A dry heave empties his lungs.

 

There’s an intense gaze from beneath red curtains of hair. A wet tongue slides across his chest, marking him anew. Noiz doesn’t recognize his own body, having only faint reflections on the glass wall to tell him so. Hard muscle has turned soft, sensitivity heightened in places he never gave importance, pockets of tissue pads his lean frame.

“Ah!”

Pointed teeth clamp and tug on his nipple, perked and dark from Koujaku’s attention. Noiz arches into the wet suction that follows, not quite an apology but he pets the top of Koujaku’s head in approval nonetheless. Pinpricks of those same teeth mark the slight swell of his pectorals next, dragging lightly over flesh, digging just enough to make Noiz moan.

Koujaku thrusts into his hand and his body trembles.

“Nnngghrr…” The growl is pressed into his skin like a brand, searing the not-quite-word against his neck as Koujaku straightens up above him.

Noiz kisses him, pulls him close, pulls him in.

It feels a little weird doing this now, with Koujaku’s solid abs meeting the slight mound that is his growing stomach, but they’re careful. Very careful.

 

The first time Noiz noticed his growing bump, it was after waking from an afternoon nap.

There’s not much to do in this prison except for eating and sleeping and sex when the mood strikes. He wakes, curled on top of Koujaku, swaddled in blankets and warmth. Noiz sniffs at his mate, finding comfort at the familiar smell. He’s ready to resume his nap when he comes across a bit of difficulty -- he can’t quite lay his body parallel to Koujaku’s. There’s this itty bit of space between them and when Noiz looks down, he finds an unassuming roundness about his torso.

A frown pulls at his expression. It figures that given his lack of exercise and constant food consumption, he’s going to put on some weight. He looks at Koujaku’s sculpted form with a twinge of jealousy, how does that man keep fit like that? Noiz glares at the abdominal muscles some more; how is that fair when he and Koujaku do pretty much the same things together?

A huff.

Noiz closes his eyes to rid himself of the depressing sight. He curls his body beside Koujaku’s, tucking his face against the strong neck.

Well… his mind supplies in the midst of groggy darkness. You have been eating more recently… since you’re expecting a baby and all…

…

Noiz can swear his heart stopped beating for a second there, but a faint pulse still echoed in his body. He pushes away from Koujaku, wide-eyed and suddenly alert. With shaking hands, Noiz pulls up his clothes and puts a hand over his stomach.

It does feel a little bigger, he thinks, tracing over the scars.

“Koujaku… Koujaku! Wake up!”

“Mmhrhh...”

“Come on, this is important!”

“HHh…”

“Koujaku!”

Noiz is holding his hand when he finally gathers his wits. His palm is open and Noiz is kind of massaging it, running his thumbs along the life lines and touching upon his knuckles. “Nnrr?” Koujaku cocks his head in question.

Without a word, Noiz puts Koujaku’s hand on his stomach, pressing it close as though that would make him _feel_ what has formed inside it.

Slow blinks meet the expectant gaze. Koujaku rubs at Noiz’ stomach, thinking maybe it’s indigestion that for some reason needs his assistance. But then Noiz bursts into a smile Koujaku hasn’t seen before. It makes him stop, makes him think. Noiz laughs at him, his stomach taut and unyielding as his body shakes with euphoria.

“Koujaku,” Noiz says, amused and teasing and so so bright.

He sits up as if summoned, a lightness in his mind. He looks down at where his hand rests on Noiz’ stomach.

Koujaku’s breath is caught with the inhale of his realization.

Noiz feels… excited.

 

“This is ridiculous!”

Noiz keeps trying to reach behind him, to get his hands and the strings they hold to meet but it’s all in vain. He plops down on the mattress, glaring at the protrusion that has made his task an impossibility. It’s not even that big yet!

Although… Noiz bites his lower lip. He has been feeling kind of bloated lately. His arms, his thighs, even his feet look unusually big.

Koujaku sits on the floor beside the cot, resting his chin on Noiz’ thigh and nuzzling close to his slightly rounded stomach.

“ _You_ did this,” Noiz accuses, which only makes Koujaku grin and rub his face against the protrusion some more, a delightful hum thrumming from his throat.

“Stop looking so pleased with yourself,” Noiz scolds. “At this rate, I’ll have to walk around naked because this” he gestures at his stomach, “cannot be contained by the only piece of clothing I have.”

Koujaku doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest.

* * *

Shadows cling to the immaculate robes, shading red accents with the color of dried blood.

Aoba smiles, hand pressed over the cool glass, staring at the tableau within it. He has been away for too long it seems, too busy keeping everything else under control that he’d neglected his most favorite specimens.

Koujaku is nestled amongst a pile of blankets, tufts of his long mane peeking out here and there. He sleeps without a care in the world. He holds another’s body in his arms, moving with the same rhythm, breathing.

Pale eyes open wide like they’re trying to see beyond the darkness, a dull thump resounds as Aoba’s forehead hits the glass, slim fingers grappling at the surface. His breath fogs up the view.

 

The masks have stopped coming in; Noiz has reached the stage where they need to be careful with that they inject in him. They stay outside the enclosure, observing. Most days Koujaku sits himself right by the glass, making wordless threats at their new wardens. Most days Noiz kips beside the toilet, nauseated.

His once-reliable tastebuds have gone to shit. Walking - the only exercise he has - is more of a hazard with his balance askew; even sitting down he has to maintain a slight slouch to accommodate the baby. He feels so, so tired.

It’s like his body is revolting against him. Which isn’t fair at all since it was the one that so generously accepted the implanted uterus in the first place.

Noiz bites his tongue and it tastes like puke. He hefts himself up, ambling to the sink to rinse out the the taste; he splashes water on his face while he’s at it. If there was a mirror here, Noiz probably wouldn’t even recognize himself. He wipes his mouth on the wide collar of his hospital gown.

At least those masks had the sense to bring him bigger clothes.

 

“Well isn’t this a surprise?”

Bright lights, blues and pinks and yellows, a swirl of faces meet his squinting gaze.

“You’re coming along well,” a clear voice cuts through his addled mind. He should know this man.

“Very good,” a similar voice echoes. Him, too. He’s almost certain they’ve been.... acquainted… before.

“Good…?” Noiz repeats, vague. He can’t put a name to the faces but he _should_. They’re the first faces he has seen in months, the first humans he has encountered and yet… instinct tells him not to get to close. Don’t pry too deep. It warns him of something sinister.

He doesn’t even remember how they got him here, though the masked figures standing not too far away give him a clue.

“Aoba-san would be pleased.”

The name brings a disturbing chill down his spine. Noiz shakes his head, groaning. “No, not… him, Koujaku… I...“

“We should ask…” a conversational tone states above him, accompanied by heavy pats on his head. Noiz feels woozy at the contact, loosing the next string of words. “...still needed after this… if not…”

Noiz starts to protest but then he’s being moved, what feels like too many hands on both sides guide him onto unsteady feet.

“Bye bye!”

The seat sags under his weight, unassuming hallways pass by and then he’s directed towards an elevator. It’s cold. Noiz raises his head, a little more conscious of his surroundings after travelling some five floors up. It all looks so different.

_Tick tock tick_

How long have they been cooped up in that room?

Movement from inside his swollen stomach give something of an answer.

What has started to feel like an endless journey comes to a close before pointed white boots.

_Tick tock_

“Who told you to bring him out?”

Aoba has never looked so wretched, in Noiz’ opinion. The ends of his bleached hair are frayed; they would probably sweep the floor if straightened out properly. He’s all white, splotched with livid red.

“We had orders,” someone behind Noiz replies.

“Whose orders?” Aoba demands, loud and abrasive. It rings inside Noiz’ ears, disorienting. Aoba’s pitch increases after he hears the reply.

Noiz just wants him to shut up.

A loud thump gets his attention.

Koujaku watches them from inside their prison, fangs bared, fists banging on the glass in an attempt to break it.

“Put him back in,” Aoba orders after watching Koujaku for a second, his features cleared of mounting hysteria.

The pair of masks exchange a look; Comedy steps back, taking the steady ticking sound with him, leaving Tragedy in charge of Noiz’ wheelchair.

Noiz starts moving again, wheeled just inside the enclosure. The mask behind him steps away as Koujaku approaches. He taps a card on the lock but instead of the door swinging open, it beeps in error.

_Tick_

Koujaku looks up at the disruption, the worry he displayed while inspecting his mate turns into rage.

“Sto--!”

Koujaku’s roar is louder, more powerful.

Noiz hears the crash, the fragmented words making no sense as Koujaku tears into the mask. An arm skids to a stop at his feet, joints bent backwards and spilling dark liquid. He looks up and Aoba is sporting a satisfied look.

“Clean that up when he’s done,” Aoba commands the remaining mask loftily. “Don’t leave any sharp objects.”

He waves at Noiz as he goes, striding away with purpose.

Inside, the decimated mask stutters prolonged syllables, not making much sense until Koujaku crushes its voicebox.

  
Koujaku fits neatly against his back, one arm wrapped as far as it could reach around his full stomach.

Noiz rarely gets out of bed these days. He prefers the springy mattress over the pile of blankets on the floor and Koujaku had no choice but to relocate everything to accommodate him. It hurts to move so Koujaku brings everything to him -- food and clothes and what little else there is that’s allowed.

The older man is only too happy to dote as he does, kissing Noiz lips and his belly whenever he pleases. Noiz always seems better after Koujaku lavishes him with affection and he wants his mate to stay that way.

Napping is another of their favorite past times. Noiz’ fingers are laced with Koujaku’s, traversing the expanse of his stomach in leisurely strokes.

“I look like a freak,” Noiz mumbles as their joined hands trace the discolored skin of the stretched-out sutures that mark his modification. Koujaku hums against his shoulder, palming the stretched skin. “That wasn’t a compliment.” Craning his head behind him, Noiz meets a ruby gaze -- he could almost  see some sort of understanding shining through.

Koujaku wears a grin that tells Noiz he doesn’t mind at all, that he’d already loved him before all of this, when he was a different kind of freak. Their entire world may have gone topsy turvy but the truth of his devotion remains. Always, Noiz reads just before dark lashes flutter close and Koujaku leans in, dropping a quick peck on his neck.

A faint thump stunts the path of their hands somewhere over the curve. Noiz’ hand stills, Koujaku’s eyes blink open.

 _Thump_.

There it is again. A little kick. A little sign of life.There is _life_ right inside of him, from both of them, right _here_.

Something lodges in Noiz’ throat, lips curling inwards as he breathes in.

Koujaku’s eyes crinkle with glee. He has been nothing but supportive through this ordeal, ever-present and attentive to Noiz’ needs even through his direst moods. Noiz bears the fruit of their union, knowing this and watching, protecting its development has filled Koujaku with greater purpose. More than just a mate, he’s going to be --

“What if he turns out like me?” Noiz voices his fear, hushed and sudden in the still room. “What if he’s…” His tongue catches on the word for a moment before pushing through. “What if he can’t _feel_ ? I… I don’t want him to be like _me_. He doesn’t deserve that. I can’t--”

“Ssshh,” Koujaku interrupts. “Sshhhhsshhhss.” He kisses Noiz’ neck again, soothing him. Noiz makes a sound of protest, but the way he presses back against Koujaku speaks of a need for a little more comfort. Koujaku is glad to give it to him.

“I just want him to be okay,” Noiz moans, a little teary as Koujaku coaxes him onto his back. Both hands support his womb, the weight of it now a familiar pressure on his body. Noiz can’t remember them having this many pillows at the start but what matters is that they’re cushioning him now, alleviating a bit of the pain.

“Nnhhrooi...” Koujaku traces Noiz’ cheek with a pointed finger, a teasing caress. Bright eyes glow warmly at him, the pain within them subsiding as he replaces the digit with puckered lips, showering Noiz with kisses.

“Ah, wait -- Koujaku--” Noiz finds purchase in thick red hair, hauling Koujaku away but not before he lands a wet smack right on his lips. Time stands still for those few precious seconds.

 

“There’s no point laying kisses where I can’t even feel them.”

Koujaku is caught red-handed but his expression is proud when he looks up. “I thought you passed out?”

Noiz scoffs, his chest jutting out then recoiling like a gunshot. It prompts Koujaku to move up from where he’d been nursing little love bites across his collarbone. He cranes his head the other way when Koujaku moves in close. A hum and a smack right by his ear tells him that the man only changed his position, not entirely intending to stop. “You’re a beast,” he snorts as more of his vision is filled with amused ruby eyes and ebony hair. “A kissing monster.”

“True,” Koujaku admits, kissing Noiz’ nose and laughing heartily when it scrunches up.

“At least kiss me where I want you,” Noiz mutters, cupping Koujaku’s face and pulling it close. He tilts up his chin to meet him when Koujaku goes still, eyeing Noiz’ lips critically.

“What?”

Koujaku holds his silence for a second, then he matches Noiz’ confused look with a dead-serious tone. “My dick was in there.”

Incredulous, Noiz bursts out laughing. “Your dick has been _everywhere_ , you horny old man. I’d be more amazed to find someplace it _hasn’t_ been in.”

“Oh yeah?” Koujaku challenges.

Noiz sobers up, eyelids swooping low. “Yeah.” A hot pair of lips steal his breath, effectively ending the conversation. Not that Noiz really minds. Koujaku toys with his tongue piercing, drinking up the appreciative moans as Noiz gets high on the feeling.

* * *

It’s like his nerves have been set on fire. Tears carve rivers down his cheeks, ragged exhales dispersing past gritted teeth. It’s like trying to contain an earthquake, one that’s slices through both mind and body. He’s had contractions that left him numb before, ones that left him choking on his own hammering heart, but this… this is…

“Ngharghh!” Koujaku himself is in a panic, unable to come close and offer his comforting touch with how Noiz’ arms are thrashing about. His mate is in pain and he can’t do anything about it.

Noiz’ screams grow louder, strangled with sobs and pitiful whimpers. The floor beneath him is wet.

An army of masks marches in.

Koujaku lunges at them, clawing through armor even as their chorus crashes into him.

 

“Aoba.” Noiz grabs at the sleeve fluttering by the operating table, knuckles going white with the effort.

“Strap him down.”

“Urgk… _listen_ ,” Noiz implores, voice hoarse over the nerve-wracking pain. Someone pinches his wrist, making him lose his grip. Both hands are then held down with thick belts, receiving the same treatment as his legs and chest.

“I’m not hearing any last requests,” Aoba tells him, smug. “You’re just about done being useful to me.” He palms the bloated stomach. “Nine months I’ve let you do as you pleased. Nine months of making me gag, keeping me out.”

_Nine months of Koujaku ignoring me, slaving at your feet , looking so ha -- NO!_

“This time I’m taking everything back.”

Noiz shakes his head but strong hands keep him still, unintelligible pleas spill from his mouth. Another belt is strapped around his forehead, forcing him to stare at the ceiling. He starts to thrash about but a debilitating pain explodes from his core; a squeezing,clawing, sensation with nowhere to go. Noiz feels like he’s going to burst, his brain barely processing the influx of jumbled thoughts. He doesn’t recognize the sharp edge poised over his stomach until a deliberate incision short circuits everything.

 

Aoba stands back, arms crossed. As much as he’d love to personally carve Noiz open like he’d done many times before, the situation calls for care and precision. He can’t promise to be careful when surmounting rage threatens a slip of the hand. All those days and months of preparation would go to waste should things go wrong at the last stage.

There’s a solid round mass stretching out Noiz’ stomach. It looks rather heavy and Aoba can’t imagine it to be easy on Noiz’ back. He had watched the surveillance tapes of Noiz ambling about, steps growing slower and unsure as his load increases until he’s left pretty much bedridden. It would be funny if not for Koujaku’s unwavering presence -- helping Noiz up when he stumbles, bringing him food when he couldn’t move. It’s all so sickeningly domestic that more than once Aoba has thought of terminating his plan. Impregnating Noiz wasn’t supposed to make him loveable.

He’s overweight and his stomach sticks out like an overgrown pustule, ready to burst. Budding breasts look like misshapen parodies and no teeth have grown from where Aoba has pulled them out. Unflattering scars litter his skin, welts and discolorations.

In a word, Noiz looks grotesque.

And yet, Koujaku’s mark remains, tended to daily as if anyone should forget his claim on the man.

Aoba simmers in his corner, biting into his own lip to contain himself. It’s humiliating, losing his control over the situation but there’s still a way to veer back to his original plan.

He doesn’t need Noiz to raise the baby, after all. Present technology would work just fine. Koujaku would have the child he’d always wanted and Aoba… Aoba will be there.

 

There’s so much blood, gushing and gushing amidst pulsing organs slathered with tissue, soaking red into folds of cloth. Steady hands cut into the womb, a high beep resounds from the monitor at the corner. Aoba would’ve liked Noiz to experience this in full consciousness but the blond had blacked out within the first minute. Shame.

 

The masks conducting the operation have been programmed to be proficient. They are quick, if mechanical in their demeanor. Not that Aoba expected anything else from his hand-picked attendants. One of them has deemed to administer a sedative, holding up a breathing mask to the already unconscious Noiz. Aoba would stop him but then he’d really rather not see Noiz awake through this; he’d rather not see Noiz awake, period.

Once he gets what he needs from him, Noiz is disposable. Certain people already made clear their interest in acquiring him afterwards. So long as they keep him away from Aoba, it’s pretty much a done deal.

“It’s a boy,” the head surgeon perfunctorily declares, one mask clipping away at the umbilical cord while another holds up the baby.

It doesn’t cry, Aoba notes, eyeing the child with suspicion. It’s completely unlike what the documentaries showed. Even as the masks clean it off and wrap it up, the baby maintains its soft breathing.

“Give it to me.” He holds out his arms, surprised at the weight that falls into them. “Hmph…”

Aoba cocks his head, scrutinizing the bundle in his arms - a fleshy, hairless, wrinkled thing. If not for the minute movement of its in- and exhales, he would’ve thought it a horrid little rag doll. He hopes it takes after Koujaku. “Quiet, aren’t you? No matter. I’m taking you so...”

Aoba doesn’t bother with farewells, babbling at the newborn as though could understand. It looks pretty healthy, all things considered, so why not bring him to his father now? Poor Koujaku must be worried sick. Turning on his heel to march out, he had barely taken a step when he’s called back.

“Please wait.”

“What for?” Aoba raises a brow, testy at being interrupted.

One of the attending masks is pulling out another mass of flesh from Noiz’ open stomach. “There’s another one.”

“...What.”

They’re cleaning and bundling up a second baby, small and greyish-pink and pudgy. It’s quiet like the first but it seems more agitated at being removed, twitching and weakly swatting at the hands that carry it.

Sharp as steel and similarly severe, Aoba’s attention cuts to Noiz, indignation rising in his chest like a tidal wave. _Twins? He was carrying twins?_ All this time and no one told him. What is he even supposed to do with that? He only needs --

The appearance of another blanket-wrapped child at his side distracts him. One of the Comedy masks is holding the baby towards him, expectant.

Aoba wants to shoo him away, tell him to shove that ugly thing back where it came from.

“Peh -- Please…”

It’s faint, ragged, but Aoba knows that voice. He hates it. Of course Noiz just has to make things worse, stealing the moment from him as he has done time and again. Aoba squeezes his eyes shut, decidedly not acknowledging the blond and the labored breaths coming from his general direction.

Something shifts in his arms and he peeks, just a little. The baby is wriggling, turning away, face scrunching up as he registers his confinement. Looking for his mother, Aoba thinks, growing bitter. But then a gurgle comes from close by, clearer than the sound of masks tidying up now that operation is coming to a close. From his periphery, Aoba finds the second child similarly flustered, futile in its attempt to reach over.

Aoba watches them, mind abuzz without anything cohesive. He holds the firstborn closer to him, the warmth of it soaking through his clothes. It’s too much heat coming from such a tiny bundle. Then Aoba realizes most of the heat is packed inside of him. It’s suffocating. His eyes are wet when he blinks.

A deep breath.

Raising his head, Aoba grazes his knuckles against a plump cheek. The baby sighs, held steady by the mask who has remained at his side. Aoba does the same to the firstborn that has now settled in his arms.

On the operating table, Noiz lays mostly whole. There are fresh stitches crisscrossing over old scars, stretched skin drooping in folds.

Sharp pain spikes through Aoba’s brain at the sight, ears ringing with distant shouts, dissonant.

“How is he?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was okay, all the nice comments from before really fueled me! So thanks, everyone!  
> I wrote that last part with Noiz' POV at first but it didn't seem right so I scrapped that (ehehe) and did Aoba's POV instead.  
> Not wanting to waste the little details, I posted Noiz' POV on [my tumblr here](http://hatetheneed.tumblr.com/private/144691385550/tumblr_o7inrrcfAD1uxnuga).. please enjoy~


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kittypox has blessed us with a snippet! It goes rather seamlessly with the story, too, so read that first before heading into the chapter!  
> [[HERE](http://kittypox.tumblr.com/post/145428113397/snippet-patience)]

_Tick_

_...Tock_

_Tick..._

_…Tock_

This has to be hell.

Amidst the insistent pain lancing through his body, Noiz is specifically aware of the itch around his stomach, like needles prickling, pushing out of his skin. A ghost sensation of being sewn up, like he’s reliving the moment over and over. His limbs feel heavy, his head clouded with fragments of thought. His eyes find a stoic figure by the foot of his bed, back straight, face turned towards him. Not a face, Noiz corrects, a comedic theater mask.

This is worse than hell. This is… reality.

“How are you feeling?” the mask tilts his head.

Noiz’ tongue weighs heavy in his mouth. He blinks at his companion, wondering if he should even bother answering. Does it even matter?

A minute passes and the mask must’ve discerned something from his expression because it stands up and walks away.

 _Good_ , Noiz thinks. _Leave me alone_.

His hand clenches into starched bedsheets. A heaviness settles, squeezes down on his chest. Noiz stares down at his body; he looks like a deflated balloon. The fullness he’d come to know and live with these past months is gone. His baby… no… there were two… his babies… they’re gone and he didn’t even get to hold them. Just once would’ve been enough. Maybe.

 

He’s looking down a crib, hand extended to the pinkish bundle amidst baby blue cushions. His finger is captured by even smaller digits, gripped so tight but it doesn’t register in the slightest. Noiz remembers his little brother’s smile, gleeful and toothless.

 

 _Theo is an uncle now_ , Noiz thinks to himself, a hiccup of hysteric laughter slipping out. Theo would be happy to meet his nephews. Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with Noiz after he’d left them all behind. How many years has it been? Theo probably doesn’t remember him at all.

Noiz bites at his bottom lip, dragging his teeth through chapped skin. Nobody remembers him anymore. Nobody would want to. Why would anyone want anything to do with him, anyway?

The door beeps and the mask returns, bringing a tray of food. He sets it on the bedside table and Noiz sees a bowl of soup, some bread, and a glass of water.

“I’m going to adjust the bed so you’re sitting up,” the mask tells him before doing just that. All it takes is a press of the button and the upper portion of the bed rises to an incline.

“We’re going to start breakfast now.”

Noiz stares in disbelief as it pushes up the mask partway, revealing a sliver of a pale face, lips dotted with two moles at the right corner. He always thought the masks were the faces themselves. Comedy mask (is it even fair to call him a mask, still?) picks up the soup bowl, scoops some of it into a spoon, then blows.

Wisps of smoke curl up from the cooled spoonful that’s lifted towards Noiz.

“Please eat,” the mask says, mouth curved in a gentle smile.

It gives Noiz the creeps. “Why?”

“Well...” Comedy retracts a little, his spoon hovering above the steaming soup. “You have nothing to feed the babies if you’re hungry yourself.”

_Tick tock tick_

 

His hands are shaking so badly around the glass, he nearly spills it on himself if not for the mask’s patient assistance. Noiz gulps down the cool water, washing down remnants of soup-soaked bread.

“Very good,” comes the praise. Comedy has his mask back in order. He takes the glass and carries the tray outside, promising to return soon.

Noiz lays back, stomach feeling a bit fuller than before. It’s been half a day since the operation, the babies are well he’s been told but Noiz has to verify that himself. Last thing he remembers is seeing Aoba put his hands on them. Who knows what Aoba has done?

Minutes pass and something like paranoia mixes with the budding anticipation inside him.

Noiz surveys the room a little - sparse walls, a handful of furniture, the only window is through the door. He has been in a lot of confined rooms, even gone as far as call one of them _home_ because, really, it’s the closest thing he has to one.

He could’ve had a proper home, once upon a time -- tucked into one of the quieter neighborhoods of the island, made of brick and wooden floors, where tobacco smoke mixes with incense. There’s a dent in the wall by the foyer he’s particularly fond of, from Koujaku swinging his sword at him that one time he snuck inside. Koujaku has always been territorial.

 _Koujaku…_ Noiz absently wraps his arms around himself, feeling rather vulnerable. They’ve been separated yet again and Noiz so dearly wants to come back to him... except he can’t. The stitches on his stomach stings as if to remind him. He can’t go back empty-handed, not when Koujaku was every part the expectant parent. Noiz doesn’t want to be more of a disappointment than he already is. Oh but how he misses him.

Green eyes flit about, looking for some distraction, a clock, anything; he’s sure he heard the measured beats while he was asleep. Maybe it was all in his head? Having nothing but his thoughts for company drags every second.

That mask probably lied to him. Why did he even think that he could trust it? Stupid, _stupid_ brain. That guy works for _Aoba_ , he wouldn’t cater to a prisoner. He probably just said that to get Noiz to eat whatever poison they mixed in with the soup; it did taste kind of weird.

What feeble hope Noiz has nurtured wilts, following that train of thought.

He should just sleep, go quietly into the arms of certain death.

_Whoosh_

“Sorry it took so long,” an apologetic tone precedes the mask’s return. “Doing this alone is… _not_ as easy as I imagined.”

 _What do you mean ‘alone’?_ Noiz wants to ask but then he sees the incubator being wheeled in. It’s uncovered, padded with white pillows and sheets. Closer inspection reveals that it’s actually two incubators side by side, each housing a healthy-looking baby.

_Oh._

Comedy parks the incubators right beside Noiz who immediately reaches for his kids but a stiff arm blocks his attempt. “Wait.”

Noiz eyes him with distrust.

“You need to be careful with them,” Comedy tells him.

“Why?” Noiz says, suspicious. Is there… something wrong with the children? He almost doesn’t want to know.

“Babies are fragile. And you can’t put too much strain on your body, either.” Comedy tilts his head. “Please sit back and I’ll hand them to you.”

There’s some grumbling but Noiz does as he’s told, the prospect of being able to hold his children outweighing his irritation at being bossed around. Nodding at his patient’s compliance, the mask picks up one of the babies and deposits it into Noiz’ waiting arms (after he had sanitized his hands, corrected his posture, and got his promise to speak up if he starts feeling hurt).

It feels surreal, finally being able to hold and gaze upon the child he has carried for nine months. Noiz’ vision swims with every little detail, grounded by the weight of it against him. The baby remains peacefully asleep and Noiz couldn’t help but wonder if it can feel, if it can recognize him on some subconscious level.

Fingertips hover for the longest time until Noiz finally, gingerly touches his son’s cheek. He’s surprised at the softness of it, at the warmth. The baby’s breath hitches, pouty little lips agape, and then… it whimpers. The sound of it fills Noiz with unexpected comfort. Noiz curls himself around the bundle in his arms, breathing in deep and discovering calmness in the baby’s scent. His fingers seek the miniature hands next, holding them with great care as he plants a feather-light kiss on top of his son’s head. Tufts of dark hair cover the scalp, wispy and soft to the touch.

Noiz smiles, shifting the baby so it’s fully supported by one arm then he looks up at Comedy, expectant. “The second one.”

“Holding both of them would be a hassle,” Comedy states, sounding like he’d already anticipated this turn of events. “Let me put one back and then give you the other.”

“I want them both,” Noiz maintains.

“Their combined weight might reopen your stitches,” the mask informs him, similarly staunch. “Be reasonable now.” When the Noiz continues to hold his gaze, glaring, Comedy sighs. “I won’t take them away. They’re yours. My job is to attend to their needs and yours.”

Noiz mulls over his words. “You won’t take them to Aoba?” he asks, suspicious of the man’s blatant absence.

The reply takes too long to come and disappointingly vague when it does. “He has… other interests. At the moment.”

 _Koujaku?_ Is Noiz’ immediate thought. Color drains from his face.

“Oh.” Comedy recognizes that fearful look. He has seen Noiz wear it only too many times. “No. No, no, no, not Koujaku-san. Aoba-san is… busy. Outside.”

“... What’s... happening outside?”

The mask goes still. “Nothing,” he says, too stiff to be convincing. “Weren’t you going to hold the other baby?”

It’s a distraction but Noiz decides he’ll take the bait for now. He has to take advantage of this lapse in Aoba’s meddling, though it’s with no small regret that he hands over the first baby. Both of his kids are male, the second one a bit redder than the first, a bit smaller. Noiz familiarizes himself with his child like he had done with its brother, kissing the crown of its head and taking in its scent.

Noiz experiences an inner peace, finally united with the children he never thought he’d have.

“Muh… uhh…”

He feels its movement before he sees it, finds cuteness in the way tiny hands grip just a bit tighter at his finger.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Noiz murmurs, holding the baby to his chest.

“Muhh…”

Weak tugs pull at his finger and Noiz doesn’t resist. That is, until soft lips meet his fingertip and the baby starts sucking on it. Noiz blinks, confused.

“I think he’s hungry,” the mask says, helpfully.

“So… what do I do?” Noiz asks, still staring at his baby in wonder.

“Well…”

 

Breastfeeding hurts. The baby started crying because nothing would come out at first and when it did… Ohhh boy. He never really gave much thought to what _else_ the hormone injections were doing to his body since his growing stomach took the spotlight for the better part of his pregnancy term. But now that the babies are out and his stomach has leveled down… Noiz is a little baffled at what has gone unnoticed for so long.

It’s like someone stapled sacs of fat to his pectorals. Weird.

Even weirder is how much milk comes out of it, making the suckling baby hum with something like contentment. At least he’s quiet now. Noiz had started to panic when the crying started, unsure of how to abate it and fearing that the sound would wake the other one. He’s not confident that he can handle two crying (and hungry) babies at once.

When the second baby has drunk its fill and resumed sleeping (oh how Noiz envied him at that), the mask returned it to its bed. He then suggested that Noiz breastfeed the other child as well, just to be sure.

* * *

It’s a long walk back to Koujaku and their old ward but Noiz needs the exercise. Noiz wanted to go there days ago but was denied due to his recovering state. Comedy finally agrees to lead him there one afternoon, after plenty of walking practice within the confines of his room.

“Just a warning,” Comedy says, leading Noiz down a corner. “Koujaku-san is being aggressive at the moment so…”

“That’s fine.” Noiz is certain that Koujaku is on edge given how forcefully they had been separated. It’s most likely the same feeling Noiz had when it was Koujaku who had been taken away.

His gait is skewed, legs tiring easily, Comedy doesn’t mind that they frequently stop to rest. When they do arrive at the new lodgings, the first thing Noiz notices is the nest of blankets in the middle of the room. Curled atop it is the hulking form of Koujaku, his back turned to them, vivid tattoos on full display.

Noiz steps up to the glass, just a little bit out of breath. Now that he’s closer, he finds scratches on the wall, items strewn haphazardly as if they had been thrown in the middle of a tantrum. If he squints his eyes just so, he’ll distinguish the bruises on tan skin, blooming from the countless times Koujaku had charged at the unyielding glass wall. His stomach feels hollow, a whisper of a name slipping past, jaw unhinged.

Koujaku doesn’t react, quiet words hardly make it past the thick obstruction. Noiz almost wants to wake him, let him see that Noiz is alive and (mostly) well. Being this close yet unable to fully close their distance… it’s maddening. He wants to go in and stay right there, slip into Koujaku’s arms where he belongs, forget about everything else outside except…. Their children are part of this outside world, too fragile to be let inside the cage of an unpredictable beast.

Of their father.

Hands curl into fists at his side.

“Let's go back.”

It’s less of a suggestion than a command. Noiz wants to stay longer but it would be cruel to let Koujaku catch a glimpse of him only to be left behind once more. Next time, Noiz promises, next time he comes, he’ll bring their children and they’ll stay.

* * *

The twins are quiet, awake but unbothered as Comedy wheels them through the maze of corridors. Noiz walks beside them with careful steps, still feeling tender but unable to take his prolonged confinement for much longer.

“Koujaku-san has just finished breakfast,” Comedy is saying, further explaining how Noiz should call on him if he gets hungry.

(Noiz hasn’t eaten much due to his excitement at finally getting transferred out of that stifling room.)

Noiz just nods, sparing a glance at the twins. “How long do I have to keep breastfeeding them?” His nipples are feeling rather sore.

“Two years,” Comedy replies without missing a beat. “At least that’s what my data tells me. It varies, though.”

“Hn.”

“Breastmilk is important for a baby’s development,” Comedy adds.

“You already told me that.”

Somehow, some way, Noiz finds that he doesn’t mind talking to the mask at all. Part of it could be the fact that he’s the only other intelligible life form in sight. Comedy is chatty and friendly to an unnerving degree. Noiz knows how hostile his… kind… can be and yet Comedy has been thoroughly caring.

 _Just doing my job_ , Comedy has said and Noiz accepts that. Still, fear wedges at the back of his mind, telling him to remain wary as that ‘job’ could change at any moment. He shouldn’t trust him too much despite the ease of striking camaraderie.

This time Koujaku is staking out by the glass wall. His brooding expression visibly perks up at Noiz’ approach, a spark lighting up the sullen eyes. He stands, putting both hands on the glass and letting out something of a triumphant roar. Noiz stalls, meets his gaze with bated breath, knees buckling at the intensity of it. He detects anger. The sudden quiet from his chatty attendant gives enough of an answer. Comedy walks straight ahead towards the door, waiting for Noiz.

“Koujaku,” Noiz breathes, putting his hand on the glass to draw the man’s attention. Golden eyes squint at his hand, then at his face. “I’m here now.”

Heaving breaths slow as Koujaku calms some, his mate has returned and appears to be unharmed. That’s good, good enough. Noiz says something else, a smile in his eyes that further chips away Koujaku’s nerves, then he moves away. Koujaku shakes himself out of his stupor.

Usually, it’s only the food panel that opens -- just wide enough to accommodate a meal tray -- but this time the entire door slides away, revealing a very wide passage and a very present Noiz.

Koujaku takes a huge breath, the scent of his mate is clogged with stingy odors. It grates on Koujaku’s senses, tells him of how many others had laid their hands on his mate. Boiling rage resurfaces, the sight of the masked sentinel just outside the door fuels him. The mask harbors a foul smell akin to oil; Koujaku entertains the thought of setting him aflame. But then Noiz steps deeper into the room, closer towards him, and Koujaku decides on what’s important.

Noiz’ arms are wide open, drawing him in. This warmth, this smell, this feeling… Koujaku has missed all of it so terribly. Still, something feels off. Noiz feels… smaller… Koujaku holds him tighter, nuzzles into the crook of his neck, slipping in a graze of teeth and tongue. Noiz lets out a hitched gasp as expected, the hands pressed firmly into Koujaku’s back digging in a little.

The faint squeak of wheels behind them goes ignored until sputtering cries grow loud. Koujaku and Noiz separate, catching Comedy backing out the door. Koujaku growls.

“Hey--” Noiz calls to him, freeing a hand to direct the snarling features back at himself with little success.

“Huh hu-eeee… weeeeehh...”

Koujaku cranes his neck, looking for the source of the sound. He finds a bed on the floor. It’s smallish and boxed in, though padded with blankets so it doesn’t look all too uncomfortable. Inside, two bundles are squirming, tiny mouths open and emitting that awful sound. Crying, Koujaku realizes. They’re crying.

With Koujaku distracted, Comedy doesn’t wait for Noiz to shout at him to leave. The door closes after him. He stands holding an empty frame, the cradle left inside where Noiz and Koujaku are fussing over its contents. For a brief second, green eyes snap up at him through the glass wall. Noiz doesn’t say a word but the mask reads gratitude in his expression. His work, for now, is done.

 

“Eeeeeehhhh--”

“Wuueeeehhh huuuhhhh--”

Noiz gets to the babies first, reaching into the cradle to mollify their wailing. Their volume decreases at his touch, blinking teary eyes up at him, only to resume crying when an unfamiliar face obscures his loving gaze.

“What--”

“Eeehhueeehhhe--”

Koujaku peers down the cradle, sniffing at the squirming bundles… young ones, brood. Noiz’ smell is strong with them along with something sweet. These are…

“MMmmrrrrnnnngg.” Throat rumbling, Koujaku’s jaw opens wide, saliva dripping off the point of his canines.

The children grow quiet, hushed by the hot breath that blows over them. Noiz doesn’t understand but instinct tells him not to disrupt whatever it is. He keeps his hand on the closest baby, wrapped in pale blue cloth, feels how it grows stiff as Koujaku looms over.

Koujaku bumps his nose against the same (if miniature) feature on the other child, its wide gaze going a little cross-eyed as it focuses on him. Koujaku sniffs at its face, then at the plain wrappings that swaddle it. The small one makes a sound of wonder, cheeks flushing as Koujaku noses at its hands. A sharp smile forms, curious little fingers touching upon bared teeth. Koujaku opens his mouth and out comes a surprised yelp.

Noiz starts before he leans over, worried at what might be the cause. In the same instant, Koujaku rounds on the second baby in the cradle, a low growl slipping past his lips but the child pays him no mind. Beady little eyes are staring at the clump of red hair in its feeble grip, the vibrancy of it against the dull room keeps his attention.

“Heh.” Noiz chuckles when Koujaku glares at the hair-grabbing child, snapping his mouth at it threateningly.

“Uah,” cries the other baby, mimicking his father.

It’s a rare occasion where his processes all stop, leaving him with little to do than absorb the situation. Noiz stares at the tableau before him -- the playful children, his adoring mate -- things he’d never even dreamed of having, _keeping_ , yet they’re all right there within reach. Baby number two tugs at the red clump of hair again and Noiz takes pity on Koujaku, whose annoyed huffs prove useless. “Right, then…” He sits up straighter, a renewed sense of purpose guiding him as he covers the baby’s hand with his own. “ _Hasi_ ,” he coos, coaxing the digits apart. “Let go of papa’s hair. Come on, _sprössling_ …”

It takes a bit more wheedling but Noiz eventually gets the baby to unhand Koujaku’s hair, though it comes at the expense of having those same tiny fingers latch onto his hand instead. He tucks the salvaged locks behind Koujaku’s ear, sweeping the rest over his shoulder to avoid getting them caught next. Koujaku’s face turns, following the gesture, then his body ceases all movement, locked under a bright green gaze. A slow blink then Koujaku raises himself up, face to face with Noiz, a revelation written all over him.

Noiz feels like he’d just made that very same expression just seconds ago. It’s weird to have it turned on him, and at this distance, too. “What?” he snaps. It makes Koujaku smile, showing all teeth, furthering Noiz’ apprehension until warm pressure rests on his lips.

A gripping emotion overcomes him, igniting the stasis, flushing away the anxiety creeping over his thoughts. Noiz’ eyes slip shut as the rest of his body relaxes, encouraging his mate to deepen the kiss with a shy slip of the tongue over the seam of chapped lips. A sigh is released unto him, packed with heat and a deep-seated longing, probing tongue lapping up every sound he creates. When he pulls back, Koujaku looks extremely satisfied. Noiz doesn’t know how he’s supposed to react to that look and he’s saved the effort of thinking when twin giggles burst from below them.

Heat fills up Noiz’ cheeks, the way Koujaku regards him speaks of how they’re not quite done. Taking in steadying breaths, only semi-effective with Koujaku’s musk heavy in the air, Noiz purses his lips and turns away. He glances fondly at the children, squeezing the tiny palm wrapped around his finger.

Following his gaze, Koujaku excitedly leans over the cradle again. Immediately, the baby holding Noiz’ finger let goes and reaches for Koujaku, making grabbing motions at his bright hair. Koujaku backs away, huffing at the baby to dissuade him. Noiz picks up the child and holds it to his chest, grinning.

“Be nice, _sprössling,_ that’s your papa,” Noiz says, keeping the idle hands occupied within his own hold. “You--” He stops, realizing something amiss. “You don’t have a name.” Noiz turns to Koujaku. “I didn’t want to name them by myself, because they’re… yours… too…”

“Mmmghhreeee~”

Koujaku isn’t even looking at him. Now that the more troublesome kid is out, Koujaku has one clawed hand in the cradle, finger outstretched mimicking Noiz’ position earlier. He brings it low and the remaining child reaches out to touch it but just when he almost gets it, Koujaku whisks his hand away. It earns him a sparkling laugh and he repeats the game.

“Koujaku.”

Koujaku finally lets himself be caught, a delighted peal sounding from the baby. He faces Noiz, smiling like he’s expecting a praise and he gets it.

“They like you,” Noiz says, voicing out what is already so obvious but still so surprising. The twins have taken to Koujaku so easily and Koujaku accepts them just the same, if not more. “I… We should name them, don’t you think?”

“Mhreee.”

That has got to be Koujaku’s ‘happy’ noise, it’s almost like a squeal. He’s been making that sound for a while now. Noiz adjusts the baby in his arms, tickling under its chin. “Names,” he repeats. “I can’t keep calling them bunnies or beansprouts.” His lips curl up at that last one. “So, what do you think? Any baby names in mind?”

“!!” Koujaku’s eyes gleam, the sight of his mate caring for their brood gets his heart thundering. After that terrible period by his lonesome, void of purpose save to wait for his mate, Noiz has come back bearing the greatest gifts. “Nnn—“ Koujaku starts, feels a tug on his hand, and looks down, distracted. There’s an impressive spit bubble protruding from the baby’s parted mouth. Koujaku pops it, grinning when he receives a very familiar-looking pout. “Nnrr…”

“Hm?” Noiz looks over, hearing a growl akin to his name. “What is it?”

Koujaku nudging the ruddy cheek to get his little boy to smile. “Hnhaorr…”

“No… ar? Nar?”

“Raaaoh…”

“N-Nao?”

“Aow!” The baby in the cradle cries, giggling at Koujaku’s playful touch.

“Nao,” Noiz confirms. Not a bad name for their firstborn. Easy to pronounce, too.

Newly-christened child squeals as Koujaku bumps their noses together, an affirmative if Noiz has ever seen one. Koujaku licks at Nao's cheeks and forehead as if to seal the deal.

“What about him?” Noiz hefts up the baby in his arms, brushing back soft dark hair from its forehead. “He seems to like you a lot.”

“Keh.”

It’s hard to miss the pinch of distress Koujaku wears, apparently not forgetting the young one's offense to his hair so soon. Noiz kisses the downwards quirk at the corner of his mouth. “Let’s name him Kouji.”

Koujaku eyes Noiz, then drops his gaze to the child. Big black eyes stare up at him, almost as if they’re pleading. He sniffs, getting a lungful of Noiz’ scent and then something not quite the same. It smells more like himself, truth be told, just like the other one.

They’re his; the notion speeds through his mind with conviction. All his. He won’t let anything in the world take them from him.

“Korhh…”

Noiz holds the baby steady as Koujaku noses at the crown of its head, wet tongue soon to mark him as has been done to his brother.

 

Outside, the mask remains attentive, watching the family get acquainted. The watch around his right wrist keeps ticking.

There isn’t much time left… but can let them have this much, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fathers' Day~  
> (★ゝω◕)
> 
> i thought writing barely intelligible grunting dad!jaku was hard... then the babies came :|  
> next time i'll just write *baby sounds* instead of syllabicating everything... jk  
> sorry for the delay!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hover over the german words for funsies  
> baby talk don't get translations tho sry

Comedy has thought Noiz the basics of childcare but now that he’s back in the ward, he’s left to his own devices. Koujaku would snarl and get on his haunches upon hearing the lock click, ready to charge on whoever dares to intrude in his den. Such instances find Noiz groaning in frustration, hands full of literal shit, cursing his mate for his uselessness at more pressing matters. The mask does provide assistance in his own way, coaching Noiz through the glass when the blond appears lost on the next step. When Comedy isn’t slipping provisions -- food, diapers, fresh blankets -- through the door slat, he reprises his role as a sentinel, though there hasn’t been a single visitor since their return.

 

Nao and Kouji like to be held, though Noiz has long given up on trying to carry them both at the same time. Koujaku usually hovers around him if he’s not busy entertaining the twin left in the cradle. Eventually, Noiz decides to teach him how to hold a baby, arms locked tight over his chest. The look on Koujaku’s face when Kouji settles against him is priceless. Noiz keeps his hands under Koujaku’s linked forearms for support, both of them smiling down at their little boy. Kouji giggles and Koujaku beams with pride, Noiz lets them have their moment before giving Nao a turn.

Some afternoons Noiz can be found napping amidst their nest of blankets, the children similarly dozing off in their cradle -- warm and full. Koujaku watches over them, sometimes coming over to shush his brood and lull them back to sleep when it looks like they’re stirring. They’re so soft, so small, watching them be so peaceful shifts his protective instincts into higher gear. He settles beside Noiz, draping his body over the slumbering form and getting comfortable. From this angle, he can watch over the twins and also keep their warden outside in check. The mask outside is still a nuisance but Koujaku has grown to tolerate him, so long as he doesn’t step past certain boundaries. Noiz shifts underneath him, turning to his side to be more comfortable and Koujaku goes still, letting his mate adjust. He ends up with Noiz sighing softly against his shoulder, blond hair tickling his arm. Not being anywhere near drowsy despite the general atmosphere, Koujaku whiles away the hours carefully grooming the choppy, unkempt hair. Pointed digits rake through the lot, seemingly knowing what to do of their own accord. Noiz apparently finds the gesture relaxing with the way he snuggles closer.

 

Another day ends with Comedy dimming the corridor lights. Lately, he has taken to standing with his back to the glass instead of facing it as he does during the day. Koujaku approaches from behind, nosing through blond hair covering Noiz’ nape, deep breaths disturbing the careless ‘do. Noiz sits back, having tucked the children to bed, thinking _this_ is probably why the mask has decided to give them some privacy come nighttime.

Not to say that Koujaku _hasn’t_ tried initiating sex in the middle of the day; the mere sound of Noiz disrobing is enough to raise his expectations, especially with his newly prominent features. Koujaku has attempted to suckle on his breasts, no doubt imitating their children’s feeding, much to Noiz’ indignance. In the end, Noiz gives up on covering his chest entirely, tying the hospital gown around his waist like a kilt.

Koujaku leans in close, sniffing at his chest at the same time that a coarse hand pulls him around. The cradle has been moved closer to their nest in the middle of the room, more accessible for both parties as Noiz only has to lay back a few feet in order to sleep. Noiz releases a sigh, too tired to rebuke Koujaku for acting on his needs. That hot mouth moves up his jaw, their lips meeting in languid kisses, Koujaku’s solid build blankets him. Lazy hands are captured and held over his head, Noiz would think it punishment for his passive reception but Koujaku continues kissing him, so he just closes his eyes and immerses himself in the rising bliss.

Teeth graze down Noiz’ chest, Koujaku takes a nipple into his mouth, humming. The areola is swollen, hints of milk wiped away by the flat of his tongue.

“Hey, enough,” a breathy voice rebukes. Noiz cracks open one eye, finding the handsome face pricked with amusement. The man is teasing him, Noiz reckons as he stretches out his body to nudge Koujaku off him. Licking his lips, Koujaku’s eyes dart to the other breast but Noiz gives him a stern, “No.”

‘Fine,’ Koujaku’s prideful huff seems to say, free hand squeezing at his mate’s curves to show he’s got plenty of other places to lather with affection. Koujaku’s hand runs up and down Noiz’ side, careful about the ridged stitches as pointed nails trace the folds and the stretch marks. Noiz is trying not to laugh but Koujaku feels his ribcage tremble, hears the easy rhythm of his heartbeats. He plants a kiss on top of Noiz’ sternum, mouth trailing lower and lower til smooth skin turns wrinkled turns scarred. When Koujaku lifts his head, it’s to find Noiz biting his lip. He claims it next, coaxing the dry lips apart with his tongue.

Noiz moans, sinking against the sea of blankets beneath him, Koujaku’s smell and heat anchoring his jaded mind. Sometimes, he misses when it was just the two of them like this. He loves their children, he does, but caring for them is more taxing than he anticipated. Having to put someone before himself isn’t something that he’s used to. Sharp canines tug at his bottom lip, making him shudder, limbs twitching. Koujaku is stretched on top of him, legs straddling his thigh, hard shaft branding Noiz’ skin. He raises his leg, deliberate friction earning him a growl that echos through his bones. It feels good, great, rutting against each other -- feeling, smelling, tasting their tangible need, their indelible bond. The slow build of arousal lures him on, seeking a greater pleasure he knows only Koujaku can give. Noiz struggles to loosen the grip keeping his hands overhead.

“Koujaku… let me... “

“Nrrz…”

The reprimand is breathed against his ear, gruff and tight, making him well aware of how much he’s leaking. Squeezing his legs only drives his crotch against Koujaku’s thigh, sending pleasure rocketing up his spine. “Shit, ah, I know…”

Noiz keens and Koujaku backs away some, recognizing the pitch and not wanting their lovemaking to end so soon. He’s thankful for the brief reprieve, moist breaths mingling as he finally convinces Koujaku to free his hands. Noiz quickly puts them to good use, pushing away their clothes and rolling onto his stomach, ass pressed against the impressive girth of Koujaku’s uncovered dick. His reward is an appreciative bite on the neck, making his knees go weak, relishing the gesture of being claimed. The blunt head nudges between his ass, painting his entrance wet with precum. Noiz digs his knees to the ground, posture steadied by Koujaku’s hand low on his belly. His cock twitches with every haggard exhale against his neck, the pleasure-pain of canines piercing skin as Koujaku pushes in--

 

“Uwaaeeeh.. Waahh!”

 

Noiz startles awake, finding himself curled against Koujaku’s side, head pillowed on the man’s chest. His body burns with unseen fire but it’s quickly doused by the same insistent blubbering that woke him up.

“Guwaaahhehh...”

Hastily extracting himself, Noiz makes his way to the cradle, shaking off the dregs of sleep clinging to his mind. lf there’s anything he knows to be of vital importance, it’s to pacify the crying baby before it disturbs the other twin. Especially when it’s the middle of the night.

Noiz picks up Nao, holding him to his bare chest for immediate comfort. “What’s the matter?” he whispers, gently rocking the child. “Daddy’s here, shhh…”

“Mwu… Uewehh…”

“Hungry?” Noiz shifts his arms to give the baby better access to his breast. He tries very hard to remain neutral about the act after what he’d just been dreaming about, half his mind is still attempting to get his erection to wilt. There remains a pinch of pain when toothless gums pull at the nub, heaven help him when these kids start growing teeth. At least Nao has quieted down, Noiz muses, checking the cradle to ensure that Kouji is undisturbed.

Maybe it’s just him, but lately it feels as if the kids are losing weight. He can easily carry one in each arm now and while it makes for good cuddling, the thinness he feels makes him worry. So he tries to eat more, to feed them plenty whenever they ask, even if it is the dead of the night.

Eyelids fall shut, lethargy quickly catching up now that he has stopped fretting about. Settling down at the edge of the blanket pile, Noiz hums an old song, gently patting Nao’s leg in tune with it. He has heard his mother singing to Theo back in the day; though he can’t quite remember the words, the melody stayed with him. It used to be tinged with bitterness, as is everything that has to do with his past before Midorijima, but now Noiz has rediscovered its comfort. The humming keeps him awake, drawing out the final note as Nao ceases his suckling. He finds his firstborn dozing off, breathing evenly now that his hunger has been sated.

“Finally,” Noiz mutters under his breath, too quiet to be heard. Extracting himself, he wipes off a stray drop of milk from Nao’s chin with the blanket, tucking the baby back into the cradle shortly after. Sitting up, Noiz stretches his spine and arms, the crack of bones settling into place is loud in the dim room. Eyes that have adjusted to the darkness sweep the length of their den, stopping when he reaches the clear glass showing the hallway.

Their white-clad sentinel is gone. It strikes Noiz as odd since they’ve been under constant surveillance for so long. He knows that those masks weren’t designated to solely keep an eye on them; Comedy has mentioned how everyone else but him has been reassigned to some other duty. But coupled with Aoba’s non-appearance for what feels like weeks now, it begs the question -- what does this mean? Noiz should be glad they’re being left alone but something doesn’t feel right about this. Whether he likes it or not, he has come to depend on his captors. Their benevolence keeps him, his mate, and, most importantly, his children alive.

Noiz is inclined to check, to peek through the glass wall and maybe get an idea of what has happened. He looks back at Koujaku -- asleep with his arm outstretched, a prominent space for Noiz beside him -- then at the children, breathing softly, clueless of the dangers they were born in. Noiz plants his feet firmly on the ground, quiet footsteps leading him to the door by the corner. It’s still locked, the card slot disappointingly inactive even as Noiz runs his fingers over the smooth metal. His eyes dart to the hallway beyond the glass, ominous in the low light; their warden is still nowhere in sight. Noiz feels something foreboding niggling at the back of his mind.

 

Morning comes with a meal tray sliding soundlessly through the door slat. Noiz knows this because Koujaku weighs heavy on top of him, a protective (if crushing) stance with the man on all fours and crouching low as if to hide his mate. Noiz’ view is upside down, finding breakfast by the door and on the other side of it is a white-clad attendant masked with amusement.

The mask moves with a measured grace, no greeting, not even a wave ‘hello’ as it marches back to place.The smiling caricature is eerie, curved eyes and mouth depicting a void-like emptiness.

Noiz puts a hand on Koujaku’s shoulder, feeling targeted by that soulless stare. They all look the same but after spending a handful of weeks in Comedy’s presence, _in his care_ , Noiz likes to think he knows the guy better. This one wears the same mask but his aura couldn’t be any more different, almost hostile in the way he regards his charges; it can’t be Comedy. And if that’s not Comedy, then where could he be? Why didn’t he tell them he was leaving?

Koujaku doesn’t seem to trust the guy either. Usually, he’d be the first to get to breakfast but today he remains steadfast by Noiz’ side. Noiz is sitting up, carefully towing the cradle with their children closer to safety, away from the glass where they could be easily seen from outside. Nao and Kouji wake with the movement, groggy expressions adorable but watching them only heightens Noiz’ worry. They’re easy targets, defenseless. Koujaku keeps his eyes on their new warden, crawling forward until he’s in front of his family, a warning etched in the flex of impressive muscles.

 

The hours stretch unbearably long and Noiz can’t shake the ominous feeling clinging to every second under that baleful watch. In spite of Koujaku’s blatant distrust of the delivered meal, stabs of hunger drive Noiz to collect their breakfast-gone-cold. There’s fish and soup and vegetables, water in baby bottles and paper cups. Picking through the meal, Noiz raises a piece of carrot to his nose, sniffing. He never had a reason to doubt their meals when Comedy was serving them, but he doesn’t trust the new guy at all. Popping it into his mouth before Koujaku can slap it away, Noiz chews carefully, searching for any odd taste. Nothing. His stomach grumbles, unable to hold out any longer.

It’s in the middle of slurping up coagulated soup that Noiz hears the pinched growl from his mate. Looking at the man who has refused to budge from his spot since morning, Noiz is hit with guilt for his inattention. “Koujaku,” he inches closer, bringing food. The kids are minding their own business, safe in their cradle.

It takes a lot of coaxing and gentle caresses before Noiz is able to safely draw Koujaku’s attention. They share a meal with no few glances at their guard. When their plates are clear, Noiz stands to return the meal tray to the door, his back to Koujaku so he doesn’t really know how it happened. One second it was quiet and tense, then Koujaku starts screaming, slamming against the glass. Noiz almost drops the tray. Empty baby bottles hit the floor with a crack, adding to the tumult. Hastily gathering the fallen things, Noiz all but throws the tray at the door before rounding back. Koujaku charges at the clear wall repeatedly, banging his head, his fists, a most feral look in his eyes, saliva dripping from his bared canines. The sound of it strikes fear to his very core, Noiz isn’t at all surprised when the children start crying.

“Koujaku, stop!” Noiz tries, gripping the man by the shoulders only to be shrugged off. “Hey!”

But Koujaku’s single-minded focus lays outside; Noiz deems to check and finds that their guard has stepped closer. Just one foot forward, apparently enough to make Koujaku snap, its mask cocked smugly.

No amount of pacifying words or actions from Noiz could dissuade Koujaku from hurling manic threats at the mask on the other side. Worse, the loud barrage is joined by their wailing children, disturbed by the sudden chaos.

Giving up on Koujaku for the minute, Noiz goes over to the cradle. More than the assault on his eardrums, it’s the waterworks welling up in those guileless eyes that hits him the hardest.

“Hey... hey, don’t cry,” he whispers against the noise, a gentle hand wiping off the tears. Noiz meets their watery gaze, putting up a smile to calm the children only to get more crying in return. Wincing, Noiz makes shushing sounds, trying to pick up Kouji (who is nearer) so he can comfort him but the child irritably swats his hand away. A menacing cry comes from the glass wall and Nao lets out a shrill scream, squirming in his blankets as if to run away from the commotion. Bothered by his twin’s movement, Kouji voices his complaints with more crying.

“Stop that,” Noiz tries, going for Nao this time and nearly dropping him when he picks him up. “Nao, calm down.”

Beady eyes stare at Noiz through the tears but a loud thump lures his attention away. For a second, Nao’s crying dwindles to a hiccup, curious at Koujaku’s display of aggression. Then another animalistic growl tears through that sharp-toothed mouth and Nao bursts into another episode. Noiz tries to hold him steady but with the panic and haste to get away from that fearful sound, Nao is far from cooperative. Gritting his teeth, Noiz tries to maintain his calm. “Oh come on, stop crying. I said stop--”

“EEHUUUUWAAAAEEE HUUHHHAAAEEGH--”

“Stop it!” Noiz shouts back. “Just -- Nao, stop!” He holds Nao close to his face, liquid black eyes over ruddy cheeks. There’s not a sliver of comprehension in his son’s gaze, only a wild fear that he can’t appease. The feeling of helplessness isn’t new but just now it feels like Noiz has sunk to an all new low. Giving up, Noiz sets him back into the cradle where Kouji is having his own little tantrum, thumping tiny fists on the sheets wrapped around him, toothless mouth bawling. “Be quiet!”

Nao accidentally hits Kouji’s face in his restlessness, making his younger brother crow louder.

“-- AAAAUUUGHEEEGH UUWEEEEHH-- ”

_"Schnauze!"_ Noiz grips the cradle’s rim with shaking fingers. He can barely handle his kids when they get hungry at the same time, at least then Koujaku is there to distract one twin while he feeds the other but this time...

“GGHhuryyAH!”

Koujaku’s rampage is something that had him in awe before; now it’s only adds to his already insurmountable irritation.

_"Stop it! Stop! STOP!"_ Noiz knows better than to join in the screaming but the alternative is to hit things and that’s one urge he doesn’t want to give into. So he stumbles away from the kids, pretends he doesn’t notice the dark tattoos on Koujaku bleeding red, ombre hair tinting with the same ominous color.

They were doing good, great even. His own little family safe and together. Maybe it was too good, too much for someone wretched like him. Just like Aoba had said, he has outlived his usefulness --

_"SCHNAUZE!"_

Brittle fingers grip and pull at his hair, eyes squeezing shut as if to block out all the yelling.

No, he can’t think like that. He’s not -- his kids. Think of the kids. They need him. And Koujaku -- strong and wild and lost -- Koujaku needs him. He has to keep them together, has to keep it together. He has to.

_"Bitte…"_

He needs to.

A loud buzzing fills the room, vibrations humming through the walls before everything cuts to black. The sudden plunge into darkness surprises them enough to hold their tongues. Noiz’ eyes are wide but unseeing, though he can definitely hear Koujaku’s heaving breaths far on his right. The children are quiet until one hiccup breaks the dam and they’re wailing again. Goosebumps break through his skin at the sound and Noiz dutifully follows it to the source, hands and knees on the floor. He has made contact with their cradle when the floor lurches. Noiz’ heart jumps to his throat and he sits there, dumb, as if that sudden shift emptied his insides.The lights flicker on between one blink and the next, revealing two scared faces, wet with tears.

He shushes them gently, cupping the wet cheeks and leaning low to kiss his sons’ foreheads. “I’m sorry for shouting. I shouldn’t have left you alone. It’s okay now... ” Noiz doesn’t keep track of his mindless murmurs, what he’s promising and apologizing for, he just needs them to know they’re safe. And then maybe he can convince himself, too. Nao and Kouji calm down, appeased by their father’s caring touch. His relief, however small, is short-lived.

Koujaku charges at the glass wall with renewed vigor, growling low as if he was just revving up his energy. The lights flicker again, coinciding with another body slam.

On the other side stands the mask, looking even more menacing in the dimmed light. It’s face is moving, nodding up and down like its sizing up the caged beast, gloved hands flexing at its side, presuming to draw a weapon. Then it stands still, called to attention by a voice only it could hear. Koujaku doesn’t take being ignored very well, pounding his fists and making a ruckus.

Another tremor wracks the room, enough to throw Koujaku off balance. He stumbles back gracelessly, hitting the floor with a grunt.

Is it an earthquake? Explosions? Whatever it is, it doesn’t look like their room could withstand another one.

Noiz is quick to grab Koujaku’s shoulder, finally getting his mate’s attention. “Stop it,” he pleads over some distant rumbling, eyes boring into a red-rimmed pair, flecks of gold creeping in from the corners. “I need you here.” A tighter grip furthers his request and Koujaku looks like he’s considering it. Noiz maintains eye contact, at the same time running escape plans through his brain. He hadn’t really thought about breaking out, he’d complacent with their current accommodations, telling himself they were safe. A huge mistake and now Noiz can’t even begin to think of how they’d survive this.

_Beep beeeep beep_

“Noiz-san!”

 

The open door frames a uniformed figure in all white. The mask he wears is skewed, painted with the dark crescents of a smiling face. He holds a device in one hand, thin antenna sticking out.

Koujaku glares at the intruder, body coiling tight with tension at every huffed breath. He glances at Noiz, needing affirmation to go ahead and attack but instead of revulsion he finds hope.

“You…” Noiz resists the urge to rub at his eyes, fearing that Comedy would be gone if he so much as blinks. He shuts his mouth instead and searches for the other mask, the one that’s been terrorizing them all morning; a crumpled heap in the middle of the hallway is all that he can see.

“What did you do?” Noiz asks, panicking more than he wants to show.

“I have to get you out,” Comedy says, stepping inside.

“I’m not going anywhere without them.”

“Of course. I’m getting all of you out, is what I meant.” He sounds bashful, even going so far as to shrug and scratch the back of his neck to show it.

Seeing that puts Noiz at ease, somewhat.

“Do you trust me?”

Noiz looks at the children and Koujaku, the weight of the decision heavy in his chest. “Get us out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...in my defense there was a falling out to be dealt with and then ice skating and also sweet volleyball rarepairs  
>  but im back!  
> (ish)  
> and we're finally moving forward ayy
> 
> srsly tho sorry about the absence and bless u if ur still reading this


End file.
